Ritually Yours
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: When Harry Potter rescued Hermione Granger from the troll, he didn't expect it to complete a ritual that would give him a real family. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was doomed to loudly regret that rescue laboring under much pain the next July.
1. Late October

Ritually Yours

_**Author's Note:**_

_This story requires a brief warning, which has not been easy to write. It is a story that plays off many concepts that have been used in adult rated stories, but plays them straight and real. There will be no sex in this story for our heroes, though there are references to it occurring to others. Child abuse, physical, mental, and sexual are mentioned, though none of it occurs on screen. _

_Some of those on the group which I had beta reading this story found it not be for them. If this turns out to be the case for you, I ask that you do not turn to flaming, instead, go on to another story._

_I must thank those in the CaerAzkaban group for their help in proof reading this story. For the Prologue, I'd like to particularly thank Riftweave, Justin, Runecutter, Gemm Ethan Whitake, and Ben Gardner for their assistance._

* * *

**Prologue**

Mandy Brocklehurst heard the crying when she entered the bathroom. She wasn't going to be able to use and disabled the ritual circle, tonight, which was a shame, since it would be the best time of the year. Her mother and two friends had erected it, thirteen years ago. When they'd gotten caught, right after finishing the ritual, violating curfew, they hadn't been able to turn it off, though Mandy's mother had disabled the creature ward.

Mandy felt her body tingle as she crossed the circle to get to the toilets. Having inherited the protection from the ritual performed in the circle, her body always tingled and got a warm feeling crossing the circle. Her mother said that it was because the circle had a connection, and was reenforcing her protection. The first time she'd used this bathroom, she'd been so surprised that she didn't reach the toilets.

As Mandy sat down, she identified the sobbing girl occupying the next stall. Only one girl at Hogwarts carried a muggle backpack stuffed with books. It had to be ruining her posture. It was Hermione Granger, the girl who had to be the first to answer every question in the classes that the two shared. It was the girl who was number one in her year, and a Gryffindor. As a Ravenclaw, Mandy found it wrong that the highest ranked Ravenclaw in her year, her, was fourth in the year.

Mandy wiped and exited the stall to wash her hands. No matter how hard she studied, she could not pass Granger, Bones, or Malfoy, it seemed. It was acceptable that she and Potter kept trading places for fourth, not that he was aware of it. Being beat by the boy-who-lived was acceptable. Being beat by the muggleborn-know-it-all was not. She felt no reason to talk to Granger, or see what was wrong with the girl.

If she couldn't perform the ritual and deactivate the circle, tonight, then Mandy decided, she'd go to the Halloween Feast and enjoy herself. The circle had been up for twelve years with no harm done. It wasn't like it was going to cause a hoard of rampaging mountain trolls to attack the school because she had decided to not do it this Halloween.

* * *

_Chapter One will follow soon._


	2. Middle of November

**Ritually Yours**

_**Author's Note:**_

_For those of you who read this on CaerAzkaban, there have been some corrections and additions, but only minor ones. I'd like to thank Gemm Ethan Whitake, Polychromknight, Psychotic Goldfish, Slick 97, Michael, Callum (aka Doghead13), Alum Lewis, and other members of CaerAzkaban who assisted in making this chapter better over the last ten months. (Yes, this story has been in production for a long time)_

* * *

**Chapter One: November**

It was a week after Halloween, shortly before the evening meal, when Professor McGonangall entered the Common Room, interrupting Harry and Ron's chess match. "Mr. Potter, I need to see you in my office, immediately." The tone booked no nonsense, though Harry had no idea why she was calling him to her office. He was doing okay in class, even in Snape's class, much to his surprise. He'd actually beaten Hermoine in Transfiguration this morning, much to his surprise.

Hermoine was waiting for them in McGonangall's office. As Harry took a seat next to her on one of the wooden straight back chairs, he noticed that she was barefoot, and seemed to be very nervous, judging from the hair she was chewing on. It hadn't taken him long to learn that Hermione mood clue.

"Mr. Potter, I have invited you here because your actions on the night of All Hallow's Eve have resulted in some additional consequences for Miss Granger," McGonangall began. "We are assured that your actions that night were by all accounts, a credit to your house. However, it seems that your dismount from the troll, and your primary role in Miss Granger's rescue has made Miss Granger pregnant with your child."

"But we didn't do anything!" Harry exclaimed.

"Be assured, Mr. Potter, that we are aware that both you and Miss Granger are, as the term goes, blushing virgins," the professor said. Harry blushed, and looked at his feet. "Madam Pomfrey, Professor Flitwick, and I have been investigating the situation since Miss Granger was discovered to be pregnant this afternoon. There are a few charms that can be used to determine fatherhood, even this early, when cast by a witch or wizard of sufficient skill.

"We have also determined that your actions that night satisfied a ritual, mainly due to your landing in the third point while Miss Granger was at the fifth point of a ritual circle inscribed on the girl's lavatory floor, while satisfying the virgin condition on both your parts. We suspect that this ritual circle may have been in existence for quite some time. At some point, Miss Granger moved to the center of the ritual circle, completing the ritual. There should have been a spark at that point, but I doubt any of you were in any condition to spot it."

Harry pinched himself. He could not believe what he was hearing. He was too young for this. There was no way this was happening to him. He looked to his side. Hermione was staring at him. She was really chewing on that lock of hair. Professor McGonagall was continuing.

"I'm afraid that some rules have been invoked, as a result of your ritual rescue of Miss Granger. If you chose to acknowledge her, she will remain at Hogwarts, and you will be responsible for her. If you do not, unfortunately, she will be sent home until your child is born."

"Please, Harry, don't send me home," Hermione pleaded. Her eyes seemed to glisten with tears as she met Harry's gaze.

"Don't answer yet, Mr. Potter," McGonangall said. "You should also know that by acknowledging Miss Granger, and taking responsibility for her, you will cause the wards at Number Four Privet Drive to collapse. Your home with the Dursleys will no longer be safe for you. Another residence will most likely need to be found by Summer."

Harry could not see that as a down side. It only made him more determined to say yes to the girl who was looking so sad and hopeful at him.

"As your magical guardian, should you make this decision, it will be my job to ensure an orderly transition to a new muggle guardian."

"Magical guardian?" Hermione asked, her curiosity causing her to look back at McGonangall.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, when a student without living magical parents is sorted, their head of house takes the job of magical guardian, unless the muggle guardian chooses another," McGonangall said. "It is such a case it is our job to handle any purely magical related issue, and make sure that the muggle guardian does not panic due to magic or easily treatable with magic injuries or illnesses. Most of the time, it is a task that is rather routine for most Heads of House.

"Mr. Potter, you are not a routine task. Having reviewed your records recently, I find your aunt and uncle entirely unsuitable as parents. I personally welcome the opportunity to remove you from their custody. I am aware that the wards at the Dursleys have prevented several attacks on your person by You-Know-Who's servants, but now that you are in school, other methods are as good, if not better than those wards."

"You mean, if I choose to acknowledge Hermione, I won't have to return to the Dursleys?" Harry asked. The idea that just by saying yes to a girl he would never have to see them again was too good to be true. McGonangall nodded. He looked at Hermione again. He could tell that she wanted him to say yes. "What would happen to Hermione?"

"Miss Granger would move to reside in attached space in the dorm room you reside in. As you would have some responsibilities towards her, as if she were part of your family, she will have to wear a thin cloth collar with your name on it. Should anyone harm her, this will give you a say in determining their punishment, as it would be considered an offense to the Potter family as well."

Hermione was having his baby, his family. Harry had never really had a family before. The Dursleys were not family, they were relatives. No son of his was going to grow up without a father if he could help it. He wasn't sure how he could help it, but saying yes was a start. "If you don't mind Hermione," he said tentatively. She smiled and nodded. It was an quiet acceptance that filled him with warmth. "Professor, what do I need to do?

Professor McGonangall pointed to a strip of white cloth and two golden anklets. "The anklets are optional wear, but the enchantments on them are quite beneficial." Harry stood up and picked up the white cloth strip. It was about a half-inch high, and had his name stitched in gray thread. He turned to Hermione, who had unbuttoned her collar and shrugged off her robe, so he could fasten it around her neck. He placed it around her neck, and as soon as the two ends touched, it flared with a silver glow, and they fused together. His name was now stitched in black, and the collar rested low on her neck, easily concealed by the collar of her uniform blouse.

Hermione offered Harry her feet, and he put the ankle bracelets on. There was a corresponding silver glow when he snapped each of them closed. He couldn't find the join as he twisted them around her ankle. He couldn't see any way that they could be removed. As he stood back up, he had to wonder about those flashes.

As soon as Harry stood up, he found himself enfolded in Hermione's hug. He did not know what to do as her body pressed up against him, and her arms wrapped around him. Hugging was not something that he had a lot of practice in. He tried to return it, wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you, Harry," she muttered into his shoulder.

As Hermione pulled away, McGonangall spoke up again, "Miss Granger, now that you will be sharing the First Year Boys faculties, I will arrange some alterations. A tub will be installed, and a partition to separate the bathing area from the remainder. You shall not enter the bathing area if any other boy than Mr. Potter is present, and neither should they. It probably would do better not to even enter the other part as well. I shall inform the other First Years after we're done here of the changes.

"Mr. Potter, legally, you may chose to allow Miss Granger to use your last name, but only after she gives birth. I have obtained copies of the guidelines of concubinage for you both. I expect you both to become very familiar with them. A few students may be aware of the guidelines already. I suspect that Mr. Malfoy may be informed, but I do not wish you to spread them around. There are some private rights that you have now that it would be best that most of your fellow students did not know you have. Understood?"

"Yes Professor," both Harry and Hermione said in perfect unison. McGonangall handed them a faded blue covered book.

"The wardrobe and changes to the room should be ready by the time you return to Gryffindor Tower. I suggest that both of you head there now to look over those changes before it the evening meal."

With that dismissal, they both departed McGonangall's office. Harry noticed that Hermione kept her arm where it was all the way back to the tower, but said nothing. It was nice.

* * *

Professor McGonagall stormed through the halls of Hogwarts, her stony expression causing students and teachers alike to flee from her path. She had known it would be a bad day before even leaving her quarters, but she hadn't realized just how bad. Yes, the third years (including those troublesome Weasley twins) had a test, but like Flitwick, she carefully managed when the tests where organized. Yes, there was the annual Hospital Wing inspection, which would probably have been bad enough on its own.

Hermione Granger, one of her better behaved first years had been interred (not the right word, but similar). With an accidental ritual impregnation ... by Harry Potter ... the Boy-Who-Lived.

So of course it would be Lucius Malfoy, the blood purist; Mary Celeste Howard-Richmond, the gossip; and Matilda Brocklehurst, with her bloody memorization of ALL the rules; that had been the inspectors. It couldn't have been anyone like Joyce Ogden (another of McGonagall's favored students). And then... Then Pomfrey had to go and blurt out her diagnosis in hearing range of Mary!

So then when Mary had to tell Matilda, who just HAD to enquire whether `Miss Granger was aware of the Old Laws, and if Mr Potter had bound her yet?' Never mind it was a stupid set of old laws that nobody, nobody at all in the wizarding world, had used in the last several hundred years. And of course that dratted blood purist had to inform them, in his most generous tones, that `Of course the Potter Concubine would follow the Old Laws, otherwise she wouldn't be able to continue on at Hogwarts', before smiling his crocodile smile. He then proceeded to explain, in excruciating detail, just what these Old Laws meant. The poor girl had been white as a sheet by the end of it.

Oh this was a disaster the likes of which she hadn't seen in decades.

She stopped her musing, hearing some thumping and heavy breathing on the other side of a broom closet door. With a quick flick of her wand, the door opened and a partially dressed couple came tumbling out. "Mr. Weasley and Miss Clearwater, detention, at eight, my office," she ordered. Her steps never paused nor faltered, but she still took in the full scene. The contraception indicator wasn't on for that broom closet. Two prefects, one of hers. More trouble ... lovely.

McGonagall had truly believed that the Wizarding world was beyond that patriarchal setting. True, only in the Education realm were the ratios actually equal. Healing had always been an occupation more for witches, of course. And as for Government... Well, Minerva had to admit that Minister Bagnold had only become Minister because her husband had appointed her Deputy Minister when he'd held the reins, but Amelia Bones had worked her way up on pure determination. If there was to be female Minister of Magic who worked her way to the top, it was going to be her.

Of course, if it hadn't been for recent spat of Dark Lords, Bones wouldn't haven't been hired as an Auror in the first place. Nor would have Alice Longbottom, or, indeed, a score of other witches around that age. The more McGonagall thought of it, the thinner and more severe her expression got. Today she was in no mood to see the bright side in anything. Not with the most promising Muggle-born witch she'd seen sorted into her house since Lily Evans, having gotten herself caught up in an accidental ritual. Oh, Miss Granger would have required a lot of learning about the wizarding world, but she had the drive and intellect to do it. Now though ...

The fat lady opened at McGonagall's approach. Apparently she'd been warned. It was three strides to get into the common room from the portrait. The Professor quickly scanned for her first years. All she need to talk with where there. She waved her wand at an alcove, and it grew doors.

"First Years, with me please. I need to have a word with you about Concu... I mean... Miss Granger and Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, gesturing at the alcove.

It did not take long for the seven first years that she hadn't left behind in her office to gather in the alcove. They all took seats on the padded bench along the walls of the alcove, and the doors slammed behind the Professor.

The sound of the door slamming finally brought the her anger to her attention. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, as she noted the terrified expressions of her First Years. Even though her house was known as the house of the brave, it surprised her when Ron spoke up.

The boy's voice as very tentative as he asked, "What did Harry and Hermione do?"

"I'm afraid that Miss Granger is suffering from repercussions from your, Mr. Potter, and her encounter with a troll on Halloween," McGonagall said.

"It's my fault, Professor," Ron said. "If I hadn't called Hermione a nightmare, she would have never been in that bathroom crying, and Harry and I wouldn't have gone to rescue her."

"Mr. Weasley, I hope in the future you are more honest at the time. That being said, I suspect that in nine months or so, Miss Granger will blame you quite loudly, along with Mr. Potter for her current condition." Almost immediately, the girls gasped, realizing exactly what had happened to Miss Granger. "Miss Granger, as a result of being rescued from a significantly powerful magical beast inside a ritual circle, is on her way to becoming the virgin mother of Mr. Potter's child."

It looked like all the First Years were now in a state of shock. Mr. Longbottom had even let his jaw drop. McGonagall waited until he closed his mouth before continuing. "Unfortunately, when Miss Granger was in the Hospital Wing finding out, the bi-monthly Board of Governors Hospital Wing Visitation occurred. As a result, Miss Granger will be moving to reside in a wardrobe room in the Boys Dorm. She has also been registered as Mr. Potter's concubine, and is required to wear a collar with his name on it.

"This will also require some rule changes in the Boys Dorm. Since Miss Granger will be using the boys facilities, a new rule has been established. If Miss Granger is bathing, only Mr. Potter may enter the bathing partition. Likewise, Miss Granger may not enter the bathing partition if anyone other than Mr. Potter is in it.

"Any questions?"

There was a moment's silence before Lavender Brown raised her hand. "Miss Brown?"

"Uhm, so she has to stay with Harry forever?" Lavender asked.

"That is correct," McGonagall replied. She knew their was going to be a panic.

"Ron, was that the Second Floor Girls Lavatory?" Lavender asked, turning away from the professor.

"Uh, yes," Ron replied, in a puzzled tone.

McGonagall saw Miss Patil's eyes light up. "Do you think my sister can join us?" she asked. This was not what McGonagall expected.

"Are you two kidding?" Sally-Ann suddenly yelled. "Forever binding yourselves to a boy as practically his slave? As part of a harem?"

"He's Harry Potter!" Lavender replied. "The Boy-Who-Lived! The most famous wizard alive save the Headmaster! He owns Witch Weekly!"

"Yes, who wouldn't want to?" Parvati joined in. "You know he's quiet, smart, and always willing to save the girl. He even gets a Wizengamot seat when he's of age."

"But you'd join Harry as his slave!" Sally-Ann rejoined.

"Miss Perks, Miss Brown, Miss Patil," McGonangall interrupted. "No one will be joining Miss Granger in her current condition. The chances of you replicating the events, are simply impossible. There have only been thirteen cases in the last millennia. I will not go into the specifics, but rest assured that Hogwarts does not wish that any girl turn up pregnant.

"Miss Perks, though Miss Granger is having Mr. Potter's baby, and has some restrictions as a result of how she came to that condition, she is not a slave.

"Do not be concerned about or seek out a repetition of the events that put Miss Granger in her condition. The ritual circle is currently being carefully removed, and we shall be searching for and removing any other illicit ritual circles in the school. I strongly suggest that you do not attempt to recreate the events. There is a high chance that by doing so you may cause injury or death. Indeed, before Halloween, no First Year had ever survived an attempt at taking down a fully grown mountain troll. It is a task that Professor Kettleborn would strongly advise against letting his OWL students attempt.

As McGonagall finished, she could tell that the danger wasn't entirely sinking into the girl's minds. She was going to have to watch them.

"You don't want to go up against one of those trolls," Ron told the girls. "I was sure that Hermione and Harry were going to die. Especially after Harry put his wand up the troll's nose. He had to wipe off his wand afterwards."

"Ewwwweee!" the girls chorused.

"Professor, is there anything else we need to change now that Hermione is living in our dorm?" Seamus asked.

"No, Mr. Finnigan," McGonagall said, relieved at such a simple question after the fright that the girls had given her. "Any other questions? Mr. Thomas? Mr. Longbottom?" The boys shook their heads. "Then I shall let you return to your studies. Mr. Potter and Miss Granger should be settling her in, so please give them a half hour before you join them. If you have any further questions, about anything, please do not hesitate to ask me."

With that, she opened the door, and headed back to her office. She suspected that she'd find something worse waiting for her there.

* * *

The wardrobe appeared to be three feet wide, six feet tall, and about eighteen inches deep. It was placed to the right of Harry's bed, and he already hated it. It reminded him too much of the cupboard under the stairs. Hermione's reaction was different. She opened the wardrobe. At first all they saw was her spare robes, skirts, and a dress, but then Hermione pressed a brass rod that smoothly slid back and to the side. The interior of the closet rotated 90 degrees to the left, revealing a small room. On the right was a single bed, against a wall with a book case above it on three sides. A night stand was at the head of the bed. Harry thought it looked ... familiar.

"The book cases, and my books are already there," Hermione squealed. She jumped on to her bed, and pulled a book from the shelves.

"Hermione, you are not going to spend your life in this cupboard," Harry said firmly. "I don't care if all your books are right where you want them. I don't care if you get the privacy that you want. You may have to sleep here, but I don't want you spending one moment more than you have to inside this wardrobe."

"Why, it's comfortable here," Hermione replied, opening the book.

Harry stepped into the wardrobe, taking a deep breath. In three quick steps, he was next to Hermione. "No it's not," Harry stated, closing the book. "You shouldn't be hidden in some sort of closet." His voice broke as he continued. "It's not right to be pushed into a small space just because someone thinks it's not right for you to live with them."

He could see his cupboard under the stairs as he looked at the wardrobe room. The back wall, what wasn't covered with bookcases, reminded him of the wall that had been at the head of his bed in that cupboard.

Harry turned away from Hermione, suddenly aware of tears in his eyes. "It's not right." He wasn't sure if he was talking about Hermione anymore.

Gently, he found himself turned around, his eyes directed into Hermione's. "No, it's not," she said. She embraced him, and he could not stop crying. He wasn't sure how much time passed before his tears dried up.

"Come on, Hermione," he eventually managed to say, pulling out of her comforting embrace. He could see the question in her eyes. He turned away, ignoring the question for now. "We can study on my bed until lights out."

* * *

Hermione was in the showers when the other boys came up from the common room. Harry had spent the last thirty minutes sitting with her on his bed, going over the day's classes. He had a feeling that it was going to be a regular part of his day from now on. As soon as Seamus Finnigan arrived in the room, he started to take off his uniform. Seamus always stripped before going to take an bedtime shower, and didn't dress until morning unless it was really cold.

"Hold off on that, Seamus," Harry said. "Hermione's using the bathroom, and the rule says you have to wait."

"I'm still getting rid of this bloody tie," Seamus said. "I think Malfoy cursed it to strangle me."

"Obviously, ineffectually," Dean said as he headed for his own bed. "Man, this is going to be so strange." He pulled out his track pants and jersey. "Fresh and warm!"

"Has Dean begun his poetic waxing on the virtues of a warm jersey?" Neville said as he arrived in the room.

"He hasn't got to the poetry yet," Seamus replied, tossing his uniform jumper on to his bed. "Stop him please."

"I guess it is my turn," Neville said, aiming his wand.

Dean immediately turned around, "Okay, okay, no poetry tonight from me," Dean said. "But Harry has to, now that he has a girl." He'd already shed his trousers in favor of his track pants that he usually slept in.

"I think she'd throw something at me, if I did," Harry replied. "I don't know any good poetry."

"Percy the Perfect Prefect has finally gone down," Ron announced from the door. "Six years of trying, one hundred and thirty-six attempts in the last year, and I've finally beat him!" He did a little dance as he headed for his own bed.

"We know, we saw it," Neville said. "Well, not Harry, but you insisted that we stay for the whole game as your witnesses."

"Not that you needed witnesses," Hermione said from the door to the shower. She wore only in a short golden sleeveless gown, that went down about a third of the way to her knees; and her concubine collar and anklets. Her hair was damp, and her concubine's collar was dry. "We all knew that Ron was going to win."

As Hermione's bare feet crossed the threshold, the boys scrambled. Neville was down to his boxers, as was Ron. Dean just had to complete putting on the jersey he slept in, which due to his sudden hurry, it looked like he couldn't find the hole for his head. Harry smiled, he always undressed in the showers, so he was the only one who wasn't partially clothed when Hermione finished her shower. He had a feeling that his friend's habits were going to change due to her presence.

Dean stumbled and fell into Seamus, whose trousers were tangled around his ankles. The two both landed on the floor as Hermione started to giggle.

Ron sat down on his bed, "Hermione, what are you doing up here?"

"I sleep in Harry's wardrobe now," Hermione reminded. "And it looks like you weren't the only one to forget about that."

"I warned Seamus, otherwise you'd have been treated to a naked Gryffindor," Harry said. "Though knowing Seamus, that will happen sooner or later. He's got no modesty, what so ever."

"Don't need it," Seamus said, heading for the shower.

"I forgot to warn you, Hermione," Harry said, as Hermione sat down on his bed. "Seamus sleeps nude."

"Bit surprising, that first night," Dean said, finally with his jersey on. "Though, I have to admit to trying it, once. I don't know how he keeps from freezing."

"Speaking of freezing, I'm going to shower before Seamus uses up all the hot water," Ron said, heading to the showers as well.

"I'll wait a bit longer," Harry said, turning to Hermione. "I corrected the essay for Snape..."

"Professor Snape," Hermione interjected, as Harry handed her the essay.

"Hermione, can you look over my essay tomorrow morning?" Neville asked tentatively.

"Actually, we've got about forty minutes until lights out," Hermione said. "I'm ahead of things, so if Harry doesn't mind, I check some essays now. Only to proofread, of course. I'm not going to rewrite it for anyone here."

"Of course not, Hermione," Harry said, as he started looking though his essays again. "I think you've looked at everything I've got ready."

With that, Hermione found herself with several feet of parchment, and a task that would at least cover the time until lights out. Sometime during her essay reading, Harry managed to get his own shower and return. A minute before the call of lights out, he sent her to bed, yawning.

* * *

_Chapter Two: Late November, will be posted when I have a complete draft of Chapter Four. Don't hold your breath.  
_


	3. Late November

**Ritually Yours**

_**Author's Note:**_

_I was going to wait until Chapter Four was done before posting this chapter. I decided otherwise. Chapter Four is going a bit slow, mainly because the muse is over on Honor to Serve more often. Do not expect an update in November, because it is my intention to be working on a different story for that month, for the usual reasons._

_There were some comments in last chapter's reviews that I feel I need to address. First of all, given that the world's youngest mother was five, contentions that it's not possible for a twelve year old to have a baby shall be ignored as ill informed. Be aware that I have done extensive research on the effects of such an early pregnancy and complications there of. Most of those complications will occur for Hermione, save a few that are mutually exclusive._

_I'd like to thank the following members of CaerAzkaban for their assistance in writing this chapter: Gemm Ethan Whitake, Psychotic Goldfish, Brad Coleman, Tommy King, Agnar, Andrew Chapman, Nielingage, Lucindas 43302, Fuddledone, Justin, Ka, Ben Gardner, Potter Thinker, Jonas, and Zaion Indulias_.

* * *

**Chapter Two: **Late November

* * *

In the Highlands of Scotland, during the month of November, the Sun rises late, at least compared to that of London. On this particular morning, the sun was due to peak over the hills at forty-eight minutes past seven. That meant that Dean and Neville started their morning shower before dawn. If Hermione had been allowed to close the door to her wardrobe room, she probably wouldn't have been woken up by the commotion caused by the two of them running into each other.

It would not be the first time, nor the last time, that the two woke up, got out of bed, and sleepy ran into each other. Neville always rolled out of bed on the left side, and Dean, the right, and that put them in the same space. With the addition of Hermione's wardrobe, that space was exactly eight inches shorter. As with any collision, in not so a not so neat dorm room, it was a chain reaction. Dean was knocked back into the round white and black ball he called a football, which in turn bounced off Neville's stack of Herbology books, and end up improbably pinned by Ron's left hand, which had dropped from under the covers at just the right time.

The resulting noise was enough to wake Seamus and Hermione. Hermione sat up and looked directly out of her wardrobe. Harry was actually already up. As Seamus rolled out of bed, Harry was already in motion. He tossed Seamus his boxers, and Hermione caught a brief glance of the naked Irish boy before Harry blocked her view.

"Morning, Hermoine," Harry said. He was already in his school uniform.

Hermione stretched and got out of her bed. She began her morning wake up routine, pulling off her night gown. The wardrobe doors slammed shut, causing her to look at the now shut doors. There were two panels on the upper part of the door that she could still see the boys through. And since Harry had turned to getting his books, she could see Seamus again. Hermione blushed, as she realized why Harry had shut the doors, and quickly put on her own uniform.

She loaded up her book bag with her first couple classes books and assignments, before pushing the door back open. Seamus was dressed, but Hermione was going to have to share his choice of sleeping attire with her old roommates. Parvati might like to know she wasn't alone in her choice. Hermione hugged Harry, who was a bit stiff in response, before heading down to breakfast, just in time to miss Ron's wake up cause Dean's football to be launched into the showers.

Harry was right behind Hermione as she entered the Great Hall for breakfast. There was just a slight hint of the coming dawn breaking through the clouds decorating the ceiling. To all appearances, it looked like a promising day. Of course, that was before Hermione noticed that Draco Malfoy had gotten up exceedingly early for the Slytherin.

"I'm surprised that you could come to breakfast, Granger, figured you would be too busy puking," Draco Malfoy said, his hands behind his back, and sneer on his face, as he sat on the end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione wished she could wipe that off of his face.

She didn't give Malfoy the dignity of a response, though, continuing to head towards her usual seat. That was when Malfoy pulled the plate of pungent sausages and eggs from behind him. He picked up a fork, before blowing across his plate. The smell of the sausage wafted towards Hermione, and as it reached her nose, she started to feel like she was going to throw up, just like she had the previous day at lunch, when Ron had the tuna fish sandwich. Hermione hadn't recognized that as the trigger at the time, but now ...

Madame Pomfrey had explained that with witches, pregnancy started to effect them earlier than those without magic. Hermione wasn't looking forward to all the possible symptoms she might face. She was, however, looking forward to throwing up on Malfoy. She turned, and her eyes met the Slytherin. She swayed slightly, and felt her dinner churn, ready to come up.

Malfoy's eyes seemed to suddenly open wide, and his fork drop to the floor. The plate followed as he jumped off his perch, seeming to realize what Hermione was about to do. He nearly made it, to. If he hadn't tripped, he would have been out of range.

As Hermione looked down at her dinner decorating Malfoy's robes, she suddenly felt a lot better. In fact she was now ravenously hungry. Something about Malfoy there on the floor, though, merited a response. "Sorry, I forgot. Thanks for the reminder. I really should clean that up for you. Scourgify!" Malfoy's robes were immediately clean of Hermione's vomit. She'd put more power into the spell that was strictly required, which would explain why the Slytherin's robes were now sparkling white instead of black.

Hermione turned away from Malfoy and headed to her usual seat. Harry took a seat across from her, and looked at her with an expression that she classified as awe. As her breakfast arrived, the sun broke over the horizon.

* * *

If there was one place in the castle that Hermione Granger wished she had access to at home, it was Hogwart's Library. The stacks of books, smelling slightly dusty and musty, were a tonic to the First Year. If it wasn't for the fact that no food was allowed in the Library, she'd spend a lot more time in the high ceiling wood paneled complex. When Professor Snape had told her that she was to spend the entirety of her scheduled time for Potions today in the Library, she had not hesitated to agree. She was a bit worried about how it was going to effect her practical grade in potions, but as Madame Pomfrey said, her baby came first.

She had the highest score of any Gryffindor in Potions. Potions was by any measure, her worst class, except maybe flying. Professor Snape had informed her, though, that her missing practicals due to pregnancy would not effect her score. He was also going to be altering some of the planned potions to reduce the impact, which surprised Hermione. Not, however, as much as she had been when Snape took ten points off of Malfoy for improper dress when he entered the class room still wearing the white robes. Ten more points followed when Malfoy protested.

So, for potions today, Hermione was seated in the West whisper spot table. It was known as such because of the acoustics of the ceiling made it possible to hear what ever was said in the East whisper spot table there, as well as the reverse. The West whisper spot table happened to be in the middle of the Potions section of the Library, and since she would normally be in Potions, studying ahead in the subject seemed right.

As she studied, she started to hear some words drifting down from the other table. "Did you hear what's happened to Granger? She'll never stay number one." Hermione strained her ears trying to identify the whisperer.

"I hear some girls actually want to duplicate what happened to her," another voice said. "You won't catch me having Potter's kid, even if he is well off and famous."

"You have to admit that it is a little romantic," a third voice said.

"Get your heads out of those sickle novels and study," the first voice said. Hermione almost had who that one was. "Ravenclaws are supposed to dominate the standings. I should be number one, not five." Mandy Brocklehurst? perhaps?

"So who are you going to have put Bones in the pudding club," the third voice said. "She's number three." Hermione was having a harder time identifying that one.

"Don't be ridiculous, no one is stupid enough to go after the Director of Magical Law Enforcement's niece," the second voice said. Hermione identified that voice as Su Li. "We have to build up our practical scores to knock her out of third. Who's fourth again?"

"Malfoy," the first voice said. "He's only three points up though, and I don't think he can keep his Herbology score where it is." The way the voice said Herbology, with a strong accent on the first syllable settled it, Brocklehurst.

"Well, with Potter having moved into second with his History grade going up ..." Hermione finally identified the third voice as Lisa Turpin.

"He can't keep it there, especially since the only way he made it was with Granger's assistance," Brocklehurst said. "You know without her, he'd be way down, maybe below Weasley."

"Weasley's rising ..." Turpin noted.

"Only because Granger is doing his work," Brocklehurst shot back.

Hermione started to fume. Yes, she had been helping Ron, but only checking his work, and going over her notes with him and Harry. She was not doing his work, and the implication that she was made her mad.

"From twenty-sixth to twenty-first, you don't go up that quickly without having some intelligence," Turpin said. "His older brother Percy is ranked second in his year, behind Penelope."

"Did you hear that they got caught in a broom closet?" Brocklehurst interjected. "Hope Clearwater knows her contraception charms, because rumor is Weasleys can put a girl that way with a glance. Probably what really happened to Granger."

"No, I checked. Granger couldn't be wearing Potter's collar if Weasley had been the father," Li said. "You know they took down the ritual circle in the old East tower."

"Still haven't got them all," Brocklehurst said. "Maybe we can get Bones and Malfoy in one, not with the same ritual of course – take out two in one blow without studying."

"Sacrilege!" Turpin cried out. "And we better get going. Transfiguration is in five minutes."

Hermione started to pack up her own books, as it was the same amount of time to her Charms class. As she did so, she fumed over the statements she'd overhead. Hermione hadn't actually been aware that Harry was so high in the class rankings. She had been aware of her own ranking. The ranking was, after all, provided next to the Deputy Headmistress's Office. It was actually hard to miss the way the top ranked student in each year was displayed in big letters. Her name had been on top with the exception of two days when Malfoy had taken the lead.

Her books in her bag, she exited the Library. As she thought about what the Ravenclaw girls had said, Hermione grew more and more determined. She was not going to drop from the top spot in her class. Harry had sworn to her that nothing was going to effect her schooling, if he could help it. Well, if she could help it, neither of them were going to drop from the top spots in their class. In fact, she was going to make sure that Brocklehurst, Turpin, and Li, all dropped below other Gryffindors. Those ravens had no idea what they'd unleashed upon Hogwarts, Hermione though as a big evil grin blossomed on her face.

"Harry, I don't think I like Hermione's expression," she heard Ron say before she met the other Gryffindors coming up from the Dungeon. "It's scary, and I think it promises something bad, for us."

"That depends Ron, is do you want to get better grades?" Hermione asked. She kept smiling, a plan beginning to form in her mind.

"I was right, it is something bad for us, studying more," Ron said. "Course, I have to admit being able to tell Mum that I have a higher class ranking that Fred and George was nice. No way to I'm ever going to be as good as Bill or Percy, though."

"Don't be so sure," Hermione said. "I want to talk to all the Gryffindors in our year tonight. Some Ravenclaws are going to regret what they said today."

No matter what Harry and Ron asked the rest of the way to Charms, Hermione kept silent, with the same big evil grin on her face.

* * *

It had not taken long for Hermione to explain what she had heard in the Library to her fellow first year Gryffindors. After she had done so, she sat back for a moment, waiting for it to sink in. She wasn't quite sure what the reaction would be, though she hoped it would be to study a bit more.

"This isn't a plot to get us to study more, Hermione?" Ron asked. Hermione groaned in response. Ron had to live up to her worries. "I mean, I know I need to study more, but well ..."

"We're not all you," Sally-Anne said. "I mean, you can get a bit ..."

"Enthusiastic about studying," Harry replied, from his seat next to her. In the week since she'd ... he'd gradually acquired the habit of sitting next to her.

"Not that it's all together a bad thing, but there is a reason we're not Ravenclaws," Lavender said.

"Yeah, much as I like my sister, I don't think I could really survive Ravenclaw," Parvati said, as she re-fastened the clip that held her hair back. "I mean, they're always studying, and don't seem to ever relax."

"Yes, but what can we do about them?" Hermione said. "They're too smart to be caught."

"No one is too smart to be caught," Dean replied.

"Plus, I think the phrase should be that they're too smart not to be caught," Neville said.

"Oh yeah," Ron said. "Percy's the smartest of my brothers, and he never gets away with any prank he tries."

"It's too bad that there is no way we can beat them at their own game," Seamus said. "But there is no way, no matter how hard we study, that you can put Dean and I in the top ten First Years. We're thirty-four and thirty-three, right now."

"It's early in the year, that can change a lot," Hermione asserted. "I mean Ron went up five places since Halloween, and it's not like it's all theory. Harry's ranked second mostly on his practical scores."

"You know, if we leave out your scores, Hermione, most of us are doing really good at one subject practical or theory compared to the rest," Sally-Anne said. "I'm good at the Astronomy Practical. Longbottom practically can do Herbology in his sleep. Lavender is good at Charms Theory, not so you'd really notice. While everyone agrees that Potter is tops on Flying, I think Weasley has a real knack for helping us out on it. I know I that he really helped me in that class."

This was not going the way that Hermione had expected. She'd expected them to buckle down with the studying, and maybe Ron might bring in his brothers to help prank Brocklehurst, Li, and Turpin. Seamus was right though. There was no way all of them could beat the Ravenclaws.

"How about we all help each other," Dean put forward. "I'm dead last in Gryffindor right now, and need all the help I can get. Hermione's helped a bit in the last week, but it's not fair that we all bug her for help, even if she's been number one in our year practically since day one."

"Yes," Lavender said. "You're going to have enough to worry about, Hermione. We shouldn't make things worse for you."

"Sally-Anne pointed out that most of us have really good spots, even if we're not turning in hundred and six point essays like Granger," Parvati said. "Weasley for Flying tutoring, Longbottom for Herbology. Sally-Anne for the Astronomy Practical. Lavender for Charms Theory, and I'm good for Transfiguration Theory. Potter, I think you should cover the Practicals for both of those and Defense Against the Dark Arts. That leave Potions, History, and Astronomy Theory."

"No more than two, Hermione," Harry ordered. Hermione looked into Harry's eyes. He wasn't going to back down.

"History and Potions Theory," Hermione said. "Professor Snape is making me do lots of theory essays when I can't do the practical."

"We're all bad in the Practical portion of Potions," Dean said, "but, Seamus and I can at least try to find out where we can practice a bit. I don't know about you, but I think I'd do better if I could get a few potions to work without the dungeon bat breathing down my back."

"That still leaves what we're going to do about those Ravenclaw girls," Seamus said. "We can't let them get away with it. I mean, yes, we can study a bit more, but we're not going to knock them out of the top ten."

"Leave that to me," Ron said, with a very big grin.

* * *

Harry Potter was for the first time in his life enjoying having friends. He'd never really had them before, Dudley had pretty much seen to that. Ron was his first friend, and still his best friend. Ron had been the force behind today's prank on the Ravenclaw girls. The girls aim in the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical exercise had been quite a bit off. Ron's twin older brothers had charmed the targets at the end of the prior class to make a bit of a change to their verbal response. Brocklehurst took particular offense that her spells were all low and to the left, especially since the target kept telling her that she was below the bar sinister. Hermione had to explain why Brocklehurst didn't like that.

His second real friend was Hermione. He was having a hard time classifying exactly what to call her. She was his friend, but she was also having his child by magical rite. It was a bit confusing. For now, she was Hermione, and that was enough.

Hermione was why he was taking his shower early tonight, well, her and Wood. Apparently coming back from Quidditch practice, he'd smelled too strongly for her. They'd all learnt that it was best to keep strong smells away from her. So he was showering an hour before the First Years usually retreated to their rooms. Normally he took the last slot of the night to shower. Tonight he'd probably actually return to the Common Room after his shower. He enjoyed the showers at Hogwarts. They were always the right temperature, and due to all the cold showers he'd been forced to have at the Dursley's, Harry liked his showers on the hot side. True, it steamed up the bathing area, and made him have to wipe off the mirrors before he could use one, but the hot water on his body felt so good. It loosened up his back.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice came from behind him, and he reflexively turned toward her, before realizing that he was naked. He turned back, looking over his shoulder, as he lowered his wash cloth to cover himself. He looked back over his shoulder. She was still wearing her robe, which Harry found a bit comforting, though he had seen her naked before. Hermione tended to remove all her sleep wear before she put on any of her uniform, and he kept the wardrobe door open until he woke her up. "Who gave you those scars?"

Harry knew which scars she was talking about. There were two of them, long slashes, caused by Uncle Vernon's belt. He'd been lucky to escape with just those scars. To this day it was the worst beating of his life. He'd been left in his cupboard, bruised, bleeding, and near death. It was three days before he was able to get up.

"Uncle Vernon." The name barely escaped his lips. He hadn't intended to say anything. It was only two thin lines on his back, and it had been a long time ago.

"Your uncle? Why?" Hermione's soft insistent voice demanded an answer of him, even if it was only in his mind. He'd been nine, and his final grades had been better than Dudley's. He couldn't help it. He never could let himself answer wrongly. The beatings at the beginning of summer were always Uncle Vernon's worst. That had been the last beating, but the bloodstains still were on the mattress in the cupboard.

Aside from slamming him into his cupboard, Uncle Vernon hadn't done anything like that since. It still hurt sometimes. When he thought about it, it hurt. Why couldn't they love me.

Some of his thoughts must have been spoken, as the water shut off, and Harry found himself in Hermione's arms. Was it too hard for Aunt Petunia to hug him? Until Hermione, Harry had never really been hugged. He'd never had a comforting hand on his shoulder, never been pulled in close, wrapped in warm embrace. A tear escaped his left eye. Another followed it, then another. They didn't stop.

"What did Uncle Vernon do to you?" Hermione asked in a soft tone, as her arms held him against her. He was dimly aware that he had nothing on, but it didn't matter.

The words came out of his mouth, as unstoppable as the tears on his face. Every last barrier dropped as he let it all out. He rambled from injury to injury, from starvation to beating, from emotional distress to bleeding wound. Events he had totally repressed were repressed no longer. It all came out.

Through it all, Hermione held him. Her hands wrapped around him, the fabric of her school robes sliding over his bare skin. He'd never been held like this before. He'd never been comforted like this. No one had really listened to him. No one had really cared.

Eventually he could say no more. His body practically collapsed with exhaustion. Harry was dimly aware of Hermione trying to get him out of the shower and back to his bed. Somehow she managed it, and his last memory of the night was Hermione tucking him under his covers.

* * *

Hermione pulled the covers over a swiftly falling asleep Harry. Like Harry with her, she wasn't quite sure how to define her relationship to him. She'd tried many words, but none seemed to fit, yet. Some she could see someday, like husband, a thought that she schooled herself away from every time it came, even though she was having Harry's child. The idea that she was pregnant was still fresh to her. She had no doubts that she was, morning sickness certainly proved that to her, much to the detriment of Malfoy. Hermione had taken special care, after that first time, to remind Malfoy, actually managing to repeat once, that first day's incident.

As she straightened up, she noticed the Fifth Year Boys Prefect, Percy Weasley at the door. "Miss Granger, is there something wrong with Mr. Potter?"

With a determination that Hermione surprised herself with, she looked straight at Percy. "Yes, but I think he needs to sleep, for now. Can you get Professor McGonagall? I think she needs to know. And tell Ron that it would be best if he keeps the rest of the year in the Common Room."

It did not take long for McGonagall to arrive. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley said there was a problem with Mr. Potter?"

Hermione wasn't entirely sure where to start, now that McGonagall had arrived. Her parents had long ago told her that it was important that someone know when a child was mistreated. As medical professionals, they were well schooled in how that reporting went. Harry wasn't the first classmate that Hermione had known was abused, either. She'd been too late to tell her parents about Alyssa. She wasn't going to be too late with her Harry.

Harry had rolled over on to his side, facing away from the door and where McGonagall stood. Hermione reached down and briefly exposed his bare back with its scars. "He said his Uncle Vernon did it." She watched her head of house's expression's carefully. She judged the expression that McGonagall had taken to be like she'd swallowed an lemon, whole.

"I see," McGonagall said. "Mr. Weasley was of the opinion that Mr. Potter had suffered some sort of a break down, when he fetched me."

Hermione covered Harry again, and sat down on the bed, next to him. Her right hand found it's way into his messy hair, not quite yet dry from his shower. Harry stirred briefly at her touch, before smiling slightly in his sleep. "I interrupted his shower, and asked about the scars, and he broke down. He cried and cried. He told me about his life with the Dursleys and how his Uncle Vernon treated him. It was if he couldn't stop, as I hugged him." Suddenly she couldn't say anything more, and had a strong urge to gather Harry back into her arms again.

There were several minutes of silence, before McGonagall spoke again. "Hermione, would you be willing to share your memory of Harry's break down, perhaps by use of my pensieve?"

"What is a pensieve, Professor?"

"It is a specially inscribed bowl that allows you to place your memories in it for others to immerse themselves in and view them," McGonagall said. "Professor Dumbledore often uses his to review his own memories for deeper understanding of events. I generally use mine when a student is unable to express what happened to them."

With determination, Hermoine met McGonagall's eyes. "Harry and I will be there tomorrow morning after breakfast."

McGonagall stared at Hermoine for a few seconds. Then she nodded, and placed a comforting had on Hermione's shoulders. "Very well. It would be best if Harry had some support as we go through abusive memories, and he has shown significant trust in you, quite justifiable in my opinion. I shall tell your dorm mates not to disturb Potter's sleep. Tomorrow, in my office."

McGonagall turned and left the dorm room. Through the still open door, she heard McGonagall say, "Mr. Weasley, we need to talk about Miss Clearwater's presence in your dorm room."

* * *

Harry Potter awoke rather early the next morning. He didn't quite remember going to bed the previous night. As he shifted in bed, he realized that he wasn't wearing anything under the covers. He had not slept naked before. He looked over to his night stand, and realized that if anyone was up when he reached for his glasses he was going to end up showing his scars. That froze him in place for a moment.

It was nice and warm under the covers. He hadn't believed Seamus. Harry thought he'd stay under the covers for a bit. It wasn't often that he got to do so.

"Your glasses, Harry?"

Harry groaned at Hermione's interruption of his attempt at a morning lie in. He put on his glasses and looked to his right. The room was still quite dark, but the light coming from Hermione's wardrobe room was enough to tell that she was at least still wearing her night gown.

"Scoot over a bit."

Harry moved over so Hermione could sit down on his bed. He propped up his pillow against the head board, and sat against it, most of his body still covered by the covers

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" she began, her hand reaching to touch his hair. He'd noticed that Hermione seemed to love to run her hands through his short messy hair, somehow managing to make it look even more messy. Her hands moved down to his bare shoulders, just touching the tip of one of his scars.

"I did once," Harry said, as Hermione slid her arm around his back. "Miss Roach had to quit and Uncle Vernon didn't let me have dinner for a month. She was my favorite teacher. She always had time for my questions, and she didn't let Dudley bully me. After that I never brought it up again. I didn't want to lose any more teachers that helped me."

"Well, here you won't have to worry about your Uncle Vernon getting to your teachers," Hermione said. "McGonagall wants to hear about how he treated you, and will do something about it."

"You told her?" Harry exclaimed. He didn't want any one to really know what happened to him. He found himself wanting to pull away from Hermione, but constrained not to due to the covers and his lack of attire. "I didn't want anyone to know. I don't want to be treated like ... like ... a freak." That wasn't the word he really wanted to say, but it was all he could say. It was almost a minute before he was able to say anything more. "I don't think I can tell anyone."

Hermione pulled Harry close to her. Somehow he ended up looking directly into her eyes, as her arms wrapped around his bare back. "I'll be with you Harry, and you don't have to say anything." Harry couldn't help but to believe her. "Professor McGonagall has this thing called a pensieve that will allow you to share memories without saying a word." He didn't have to say a word. He didn't think that he could say much at all. The wounds were too deep, too covered over, to risk opening again, so soon. "Now, get dressed. We'll have an early big breakfast, and then go see Professor McGonagall."

"Okay," Harry said, but didn't start moving to dress until Hermione stood and headed for her wardrobe. As he put on his clothes, he thought about what Hermione had ordered. It was an order, that was definite. According to the guidelines book that McGonagall had given them, Hermione wasn't supposed to be able to give Harry orders. It hadn't taken Harry long to determine that the book was wrong on that. Hermione gave orders, and Harry knew that when Hermione got the an idea into her head, there were two choices. He could go along with her, or get out of the way.


	4. End of December

**Ritually Yours**

_**Author's Note:**_

_I'd thought that I was going to not be posting anything other than an NaNo attempt during November. Unfortunately, my NaNo attempt didn't get very far in the first three days of the month, so I declared it a bust, and went back to normal. Thus I have decided, that despite the fact that I have not really finished Chapter Four of Ritually Yours, I'd post Chapter Three this weekend. The next chapter's appearance, however, is strictly dependent on the muse._

_The muse, as you know, is a fickle sprite, and moves as she will ... so enjoy what she's given._

* * *

**Chapter Three**: End of December

Minerva McGonagall was a very busy witch. As Transfiguration Professor, Head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress, she wore a lot of hats, and tried her best to do justice to each. Good scheduling and the support of the other professors was key. She was fortunate to have both of those, but every once in a while she felt a bit overwhelmed.

On this, the ides of December, she'd been hit with a heap of tasks that all landed on her desk at roughly the same time. It was the day that the lists of those staying over were finalized, mostly. She was somewhat surprised that Percy Wesley wasn't staying. Then again, he had a lot to arrange. McGonagall jotted down a note to talk to Flitwick about possible prefect changes. She hadn't decided yet if she should replace Mr. Weasley, but Miss Clearwater would at the very least need to be supplemented over in Ravenclaw, as her condition developed.

There was also an official challenge of grading that had arrived. Every year there was some challenge to Snape's grading from one or more of her Gryffindors. It was tradition, and she was required to review them and forward to the Board of Governors. She didn't expect that this one would go any further than the last six. Malfoy and his allies would be sure to stop it. McGonagall was surprised that it was from the First Years, though.

She had the First Year essays of the week, for years scheduled to arrive on this day, because usually the First Year essays were easier to grade than any other year. This year was different though. Over the last month, the quality of work turned in by her Gryffindors had risen by leaps and bounds. McGonagall was pleased with this, and was glad to hear that it was an universal improvement for her First Years' essays, no matter what the class. Severus had even commented on it.

Of course, McGonagall had not been prepared for footnoted essays from first years.

The task that was taking up the most time at the moment, though was her communications with Child Protective Services in Surrey. As Deputy Headmistress, she was well aware of the procedures for when a child away at boarding school was discovered to be abused, and the school in question was out of direct travel. McGonagall was giving up her Christmas holiday for Harry. It was not the first time she'd done so, nor was she the only professor giving up a holiday in order to square things away with Child Protective Services.

Severus was dealing with one of his snakes in her third year who had been not only physically abused but sexually abused. It was the first time Severus had a student who lived in the muggle world that he'd discovered was abused. She'd had to help him with that case, just like Flitwick had the first time she'd discovered one of her lions that way. Professor Spout didn't have a case this year, but last year she'd had three, two magical. McGonagall was of the opinion that muggles handled child abuse a lot better than the magical world did, especially when it involve a noble pureblood.

This would be the first time in over a decade that she was going to ride the Express for Christmas Vacation. Harry would be coming with her. She'd arranged for a couple rooms in a small bed and breakfast in Kingston upon Thames, as it was close to the local Child Protective Services office. Severus had also gotten rooms there for himself and his charge, though his charge actually lived in Hounslow. She was going to sit in on Severus's first meeting with CPS.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in, Harry." McGonagall wasn't sure when she started it, but lately she had developed the habit of calling all of her first years by their first names outside of class. She'd never done it before, she generally was quite formal with students as befitted the school disciplinarian role that she often filled, but for some reason she felt a lot closer to this year's batch of lions. Harry Potter entered her office, as she put the paper work to the side. "What can I do for you today?"

"You said we're going to Surrey for Christmas, and I'm," Harry trailed off.

McGonagall smiled, and move around from behind her desk. She guided Harry over to a pair of comfortable chairs, as she responded. "Worried about what is going to happen?" Harry nodded. "Don't be. I will be there with you, and you will not be staying with the Dursleys. In fact I doubt you will see your Aunt and Uncle again."

"Where will I stay?" Harry asked, his gaze down at his feet. McGonagall could tell that he was very nervous. Like any good teacher, she'd quickly picked up the signs, both general and specific to the particular student.

McGonagall was sure that Hermione had sent Harry her way. "Over the Christmas Holidays, you will be staying with me, as well as Professor Snape and one of his students, in a bed and breakfast in Kingston upon Thames. The owner is a friend of Professor Spouts, and she tells me that the place should be prefect for a holiday away from Hogwarts."

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, suddenly looking up at McGonagall, before dropping his gaze back down to his feet. "He hates me."

McGonagall scooted her chair closer. "Harry, I don't think Professor Snape personally hates you. He doesn't really know you. I'm not privy to his feelings, though I have some idea why he may be harsher on you than other Gryffindors. I will talk to him about it, though."

"Okay," Harry said, his eyes still focused on the floor.

"Now, I'm sure that you have some other thoughts troubling you," McGonagall said with a smile. "Otherwise, Hermione wouldn't have sent you here."

Harry looked back up at McGonagall with an open mouthed expression of surprise. "How did you know?"

"Nine times out of ten, if one of your fellow first years in my house comes to my office, it is because Hermione Granger told them to," McGonagall said. "The other time, it is Hermione. In your case, I do not see you availing yourself of your professors much, unless it is at Hermione's prompting. Now what else is troubling you."

Harry looked down at his feet again. "You know how we're trying to help each other with classes?" McGonagall nodded. "Well, none of us are good at Potions, and I kind of, well, need someone to help."

"I see, and Professor Snape hates you," McGonagall said. She considered her lions. She did not know of any one of them who really like Potions. Percy Weasley had done okay, but he had other things to worry about. His twin brothers were good, but their influence was not something she wanted to really encourage with her First Years. An idea formed. "I believe I can arrange a tutor for you and your fellow First Year Gryffindors. It might allow us to assess the challenge recently submitted. Now, is there any thing else?"

"Well, Hermione is already on baby names, and asked if I had any family names," Harry said, looking up at McGonagall. "And I kind of mumbled that I didn't even know my father's middle name. I don't know anything about Mum and Dad really. So I kind of thought that since you were their head of house, too, you might be able to tell me about them?"

McGonagall summoned a side table, and ordered milk and biscuits. She spent the next hour telling Harry about his parents. It left her further behind than she had been, but it was the best hour she'd had all week.

* * *

"Next door down from the Headmaster's gargoyle," Hermione read, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. This time, however, she stopped at the door. "This is it."

"Did Percy say who McGonagall had gotten to tutor us, Ron?" Harry asked, as Hermione paused to let the rest of the First Year Gryffindors catch up.

"No, I don't think he knows," Ron replied. "Neville! Who was it you said it would be?"

"Professor Sprout," Neville said. "She's just short of getting her Potion's Mastery to go along with her Herbology and Charms Masteries."

"No, it's got to be Madame Pomfrey," Seamus asserted.

"No, Percy said that he would meet us, so that leaves those out," Parvati said. "It has to be Professor Quarrel."

"I hope not, I always get headaches in his class," Harry said. "Everyone ready?" Harry looked at each of them, and received an answering nod. "Then, forward." He pushed open the door.

Behind the door was a medium size potions lab. There were seven marble topped tables, five of which had a pair of student's potions stations set up on them. It was obvious that they wouldn't be taking out their own cauldron sets. Their battered sets, especially Ron's, would not look right next to the sparkling clean sets. There were some ingredients set out next to each station, but not the same ones at each station. On the table up front there was a single station, arrayed with everything that the others were, and more. Of to the side was a very long, very comfortable couch, and a single high backed fleece covered chair. It's occupant's pointed wizard cap could be seen over the top.

"Come, sit down, we have a little bit to discuss before we go into the practical portion of tonight's study session." The voice was soft, and obviously male. A bit hoarse, too, so Harry couldn't quite identify it. When he finally got around so he could see the Professor, he nearly tripped. "Careful, Mr. Potter, Harry." Harry recovered and took a seat at the center of the couch. Hermione sat down next to him. "Yes, I think we will go for the less formal address, while I am tutoring you. It seems to be working for Minerva."

"How shall we address you, Headmaster, sir?" Hermione asked. Her arm was around Harry's back. He'd grown used to that. It felt right.

"I think Professor will do," Dumbledore said. "Albus is a tad too familiar given our ages, and to tell the truth, I never really liked most of my middle names. Save Percival. My Potion's Mastery is under Percival Dumbledore. So, if any one were to ask, tell them your tutor is Mr. Percival. It should sow a bit of confusion, which I think is necessary in this case. Now, before we begin, as a good tutor, I have spoken with Professor Snape about your strengths and weaknesses. He is not, however, aware that I have taken up tutoring students. Neville, I understand that you are very good at plant ingredient preparation, however you find some issues with timing, as well as are somewhat easily intimidated by Professor Snape."

"Yes, sir," Neville said. "I get nervous, especially when the potion is really boiling."

"We shall work on that," Dumbledore said. "Lavender, Professor Snape tells me that you have a real knack for powders in potions, but are not always cognizant of your stirring pattern. Ron, your only real problem is that you overheat your potions. Harry, while most of your ingredient preparation is good, your definition of thinly sliced is a tad to thick. Hermione, your main issue is your pregnancy, and a bit too much exactness.

"Potions, is art form. As Professor Snape said on the first day of class, assuming he has not changed his speech, you can indeed learn how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. Unfortunately, we won't be doing that today. I have chosen a particular potion that has several different variants. It has no real practical use, but does have a rather interesting effect on felines. I do advise that you do not use it on Professor McGonagall."

"Why?" Hermione said.

"For some reason, Minerva objected to the particular tartan in her hairball. Now, if you will move to the tables with your names on them, we'll begin with ingredient preparation."

* * *

Professor McGonagall had walked Harry and Hermione down early for the ride home for Christmas on the Hogwarts Express. Only Ron and Sally-Anne would not be going home for Christmas. Harry wasn't really going home, though. Not that he considered Number Four much of a home. No, Harry was going to meet with Child Protective Services, and he hoped that it would mean that he would never see a Dursley again.

So he sat in the compartment that Professor McGonagall had left him in, Hermione seated at his side. She was leaning up against him, a book in her lap. For the first time, he let his own arm go around her shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled. The smile made Harry feel warm. It wasn't a long look, but it left him feeling like he could do anything.

As Hermione turned back to reading her book, Harry took a look at her. Her feet were currently bare, though a pair of shoes and socks lay on the floor of the compartment, ready to be put back on. Since you didn't have to wear your uniform on the Express, she'd pulled out a scarlet skirt, and a white jumper worn over a pale yellow shirt. Harry was dressed in Dudley hand-me-downs, a flannel shirt that Dudley had worn maybe once, open at the moment to reveal his t-shirt, and a recently resized pair of Dudley's jeans. They were the good brand, in Harry's possession from the start, because his Aunt thought that Dudley couldn't possibly be wearing the hefty cut. He knew that he looked like a bum compared to Hermione, but she didn't care.

Just as he felt the jolt of the carriage beginning to move, the door to their compartment opened. Standing there was Draco Malfoy. "So, Potter, you're going home to face the mudblood's parents. Your parents would be ashamed of you, if they were still alive."

Harry blew out a breath of frustrated anger, as he tried to come up with a response. He was saved from doing so by a most unlikely interruption.

"Whereas your parents, Mr. Malfoy, will be no doubt be ashamed of you given your sudden lack of the ability to read," Professor Snape said from the door. "Or did you think that do not disturb did not apply to you?"

"Severus, perhaps I should take Mr. Malfoy to another carriage, while you get Miss Price situated?" a second very familiar professor's voice came from just out of Harry and Hermione's view. It surprised neither of them when Professor McGonagall stepped into view, placing her hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

"Actually, I think I need to have long overdue talk with Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape said. "If you will take care of Victoria?"

Harry found it unusual that Snape would use a student's first name. He already knew how rare it was that McGonagall had started using all her first year's first names, but she'd at least used them before, with the Weasley Twins. It was simply amazing how she could growl out Fred and George. Snape though, he'd never heard Snape using anyone's first name alone. Maybe it was a head of house thing.

Snape clamped down on Draco's other shoulder, to the point that Draco actually winced. He pulled Draco back out into the hallway, and past Professor McGonagall, revealing Victoria. She looked to be in her third year with blond hair, cut to just a little below her chin. From the books that Hermione had made him read, Harry figured that she was probably in her fifth or sixth month of pregnancy.

The girl waddled in, sitting down carefully as Professor McGonagall levitated her trunk up into the rack. "There. Miss Price, these are two of my first years, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Miss Granger is entering her seventh week, I believe. Do you need anything before I go talk to the Prefects?" McGonagall said. The girl shook her head.

"Professor, about the do not disturb sign?" Hermione spoke up as McGonagall started to turn away. "We kind of hoped that some of our friends would stop by."

"Do not worry, Hermione, it specifically says that your friends are allowed, by name," McGonagall said, turning back towards Hermione. "They are sharing the next compartment down. You can also expect a visit from two of the prefects, Weasley and Clearwater." As McGonagall exited the room, Harry could just barely hear her note, "not that she'll be Clearwater long."

For a bit after the door slid shut, the compartment was silent. Not an oppressive silence, just one waiting for someone to break it. "Does anyone actually think that Percy Weasley isn't going to marry Penelope Clearwater?" Victoria said, breaking the silence.

"After Ron walked in on them in Percy's Fifth Year Boys dorm room, no," Harry replied. "At least they were still dressed that time."

"Only Professor McGonagall seems to end up walking in on them undressed," Hermione said. "Of course, they've been a lot more subdued during the last couple weeks."

"That might be because Clearwater is late," Victoria said. "I'd warn your dorm mates about Ron, as rumor has it that Weasley's can't be stopped by any method of protection."

"Harry will protect me," Hermione said, pulling Harry closer, as the door slid open.

"Harry will protect you from what?" It was Dean Thomas, who had disposed of the button down jumper that he'd been wearing, revealing that he'd picked up a Puddlemore United shirt.

"Apparently we need to make sure Ron doesn't breathe on any of the girls," Harry replied. He smiled as he continued. "It seems that Weasleys can get through any protection. I might have to warn our chasers about our beaters too."

Dean was followed into the compartment by Parvati. "Warn the chasers, if I remember the ritual right, Harry's the only one you'll have luck with."

Suddenly Hermione had a big grin. Harry knew that Hermione had studied every bit she could about the ritual, as well as the charms on her collar. "I know that look, Hermione. Spill."

"Well, there is this other charm that is sometimes cast on concubines," Hermione began. Her grin seemed to grow in between words. "If you cast it, any male who tries to take me without your permission will find himself, temporarily ... well female. The time increases based on contact time. The first time, it's the time the male was in physical contact with the female, but there after it's the sum of the two previous times. It was developed by Leonardo of Pisa in 1201..."

"I don't want to think about that, Hermoine," Dean said, his hand down, covering his crotch. "Sometime you're bloody scary."

"You and Ron keep saying that," Hermione began.

"Cause it's true, and you know it," Dean shot back. "Anyway, you know what happened to Malfoy? We saw Professor Snape go by, practically pulling him by his ear."

"Professor Snape caught him stopping by to insult Hermione," Harry replied. He smiled as the image of Draco being directed by Snape's hand on his ear came to mind. "Too bad we won't get to be a fly on the wall on that talk."

"Yes, it would be grand to see Professor Snape put that little boy in place," Victoria mused. "Mum told me that I should be nice to Malfoy, but he's an arrogant little boy, who thinks that as a first year he has a right to rule Slytherin."

"And you've got to share a house with him," Parvati said. Harry noticed that she appeared to be looking rather closely at Victoria's clothes. "My condolences. You know, silver is not for you. I'd suggest going for more of a deep green if you're going for house colors."

"Oh no, Harry, shall I send for reinforcements?" Dean said. "She's on the fashion kick again."

"Lavender isn't here, it won't be that bad," Harry said. Harry had spent a good half hour suffering through Parvati and Lavender's suggestions on improving his wardrobe one evening that had spread to the rest of his dorm.

"Did someone say my name?" Lavender was at the door.

"Neville, get Neville," Harry ordered. "He's the best dressed of us ..."

"Got it," Dean said, turning to exit the compartment. Harry hoped they stuck to Victoria. The last time, he'd ended up having his underwear completely re-dyed red.

Harry smiled though, as Lavender joined Parvati next to Victoria. With Hermione still curled up next to him, he could survive it a bit.

* * *

Hermoine Granger stood before her dresser, making sure that she had put on her make up right. She had never really been allowed to wear make up before, but tonight she was going to join her parents at the local Dental Association Christmas Party for the first time. It was a good thing she'd paid attention, without letting Lavender know she was paying attention, to Lavender's make up tips that the girl spouted as she got ready for class every morning.

Hermione's first day home for Christmas had been a whirlwind. As soon as she'd met her parents coming off the Hogwarts Express, they'd immediately dragged her off to get new clothes. Her inch increase in waist was easily explained away as "good Hogwarts food," not that it needed to be. As for her breasts, her need for a real bra instead of a training bra was the subject of much discussion, mostly on the topic of how she needed to remember to wear it every day. Hermione much preferred the charm Sally-Anne had discovered to the bra which was a bit uncomfortable on her tender breasts.

Her mother had braided Hermione's hair, coiling the braids around her head. Some of her hair had escaped from the braids though, but that was okay. She'd never had her hair up that way before, and thought it was a bit more grown up than she was used to. The elegant sapphire and ivory dress she wore made her feel like a princess. She was glad that Harry had charmed her collar to invisibility for the break, because the simple cloth would have ruined the look. Not that Hermione was vain. This was her first real adult party that she was being allowed to attend though.

There were just two days before Christmas, and there were two more parties scheduled. Her parents hadn't said that she would be attending those too, but she now had three good dresses that she hadn't had before. She also had six new bras, two new pairs of jeans, new trainers, heels to match her dresses, and a bronze cashmere jumper that she'd never thought that her mother would ever buy for her.

With one last look, she turned away from the mirror and picked her handbag off her bed. She was going to have to get rid of her princess quilt. With one last look at her room, she stepped out of it, turning the light off as she did so.

Hermione paused at the top of the stairs. Even knowing that she was going to be a mother by July, she'd never really felt even a bit grown up, but tonight at the top of the stairs, about to descend to where her parents were waiting, she felt the small thrill of being considered for once not the object of child minding, but actually going out to the party.

As her heeled shoe hit the hard wood floor of the entryway hall, her father spoke for the first time. "About time, Hermione. Now we just have to get ..." His voice trained off, as he looked at Hermione in her dress for the first time. He seemed to be very surprised to Hermione. "When did my little girl grow up?" The reply was soft, almost breathless, not intended for Hermione's ears, or anyone's really, but it made Hermione blush. She'd known that she was not a little girl any more, but somehow her own father saying so made it more real. Going to school at a magical boarding school made that important somehow. "Hurry up, Wendy, Hermione and I are waiting."

"Keep your trousers on, Monty!" Hermione's mother replied from upstairs. It wasn't long before she glided down the stairs, her gold and ivory dress just touching the stair behind her. "You look beautiful, Hermione. I'm afraid that you'll have all the boys after you."

Hermione thought her blush had to be permanent now. "I'm not that pretty. I'm just a bushy-haired bookworm."

"Now, now Hermione, none of that," her mother said, as her father opened the door for them. "You look radiant, almost glowing, really."

Hermione had heard that line before, usually from Madame Pomfrey after her check up. She hoped her mother didn't connect it with pregnancy. As they approached the car, she was glad she'd asked Madame Pomfrey for some potions to keep her morning sickness under control over the holidays. Her father helped first her, then her mother into the back seat of the Bentley Mulsanne that was only a bit younger than she was. Her father had bought it used when she was seven. The green reminded her of Harry's eyes.

Hermione buckled herself in, and looked over at her mum. She'd never really explained why she always sat in the back seat. No one in the family ever sat in the front passenger seat. As her father backed out of the driveway and out into the street. Hermione actually missed riding in the old Vauxhall Cavalier that had been her mum's. When you rode in the back, you could feel the bump when it bounced as they turned left onto High Street. The old Cavalier was her mum's, and had been paid off as a wedding present. It currently was behind the garage, waiting for the day that Hermione was ready to learn how to drive. Her mum had replaced it for daily use with the sixth of the 1988 Vauxhall Cavaliers off the line. Mum was loyal to Vauxhall, her father having worked at their Luton plant before he retired.

Hermione wondered if her mother would get her a Vauxhall t-shirt. As a Gryffindor it would be appropriate for her to wear at Hogwarts, though she doubted many of her classmates would realize what it was. The Bentley came to a stop in front of the estate house that was playing host to the night's party. Her father came around and helped her out. Hermione wasn't quite used to the heels that her mother had gotten her, and her father knew that. With Hermione on his left, and mum on his right, he guided them both into the front entrance.

"Montague, Wendy, and who is this delectable young lady at your side?" the host said. "Welcome to the Estate." He took Hermione's free hand, and kissed it. Hermione giggled.

"My twelve year old daughter, Hermione," Hermione's father said. "Hermione, this reprobate is Thomas Eagleton, we went to dental school together."

Hermione withdrew her hand. "I'm not sure I should trust your hand, then."

"You've been telling tales," Eagleton replied. "I suppose you told her my old nickname too." Hermione grinned. She had heard tales about Sparky. "I should withdraw from covering you next week, but I wouldn't want to disappoint the young lady. Wendy, Barbara is in the conservatory. Come, Montague, Capulet awaits us in the salon."

* * *

As he sat at the breakfast table at the bed and breakfast, Harry thought that Ron would never believe that he was actually listening to Snape, Professor Snape as Hermione would insist. Of course, Harry had not been looking forward to staying with Professor Snape when he'd been informed that the Potions Professor was going to be staying at the same place. Harry took another bite of a blueberry scone and smiled.

"Of course, Lily was at the top of her class," Snape said. "Though Minerva won't admit it, Lily Evans was actually better at Potions than Transfiguration. Not that she wasn't good at it."

"She was certainly top of her class in both, Charms too," Minerva interjected.

"She had this way of concentrating," Snape continued. Harry listened, fascinated. "You knew when she was thinking, her head would tilt slightly to the right, and a strand of her hair always found it's way into her mouth." Harry had never seen that expression on Snape. Snape had always been a stern sarcastic man, but this morning there was actually a smile on his face that wasn't an evil one.

Taking another bite, then a sip of orange juice, Harry sat back and listened. Before this morning he had no idea that Snape had been one of his mother's best friends, and even grown up in the same town. Just a simple statement that he had wished he'd known his mother, and now he was finding it all out.

* * *

Hermione put the gift that Hedwig had just delivered under the tree. She knew it was a book, but by her parent's tradition and rules, she would not find out until Christmas Morning, which book. She would get to open one gift from each parent, but not any others, on Christmas Eve before they headed to Midnight Mass.

"Hermione?" the soft call of her mother broke into her contemplation of what book Harry might have gotten her. "Can we talk?" Hermione looked up and found her mother standing by the door with two cups of hot chocolate in her hands. One of them had two large marshmallows in it, and the other a bunch of small ones.

"For hot chocolate, I'll talk about anything," Hermione said, standing up straight. "You know you can't get it at Hogwarts, or at least I've never been able to get it." She took her hot chocolate, the one with the two large marshmallows, from her mother. "Most of the time we have pumpkin juice. It's really sweet, though." They sat down on opposite ends of the sofa.

After a sip of the hot drink, Hermione's mother began. "You know, Professor McGonagall told us about your bond with Mr. Potter."

"Harry," Hermione corrected, automatically. Her mind was already running a mile a minute. She was going to have to tell her mother now. She wasn't ready!

"Harry," her mother accepted. "Your professor says it is an affinity for each other, likely for life, and aside from some traditional acknowledgments, you are unlikely to be impeded by it. I'm not so sure I agree. Especially since it includes a collar, though I note that I haven't seen one on you."

"I asked Harry to make it invisible for the holidays," Hermione said, her right hand going up to feel where it went around her neck. She'd grown used to it, and had actually missed seeing it when she had gotten dressed in the morning.

"What does it look like?" her mother asked.

"White, with Harry James Potter written on it," Hermione said, feeling the invisible cloth. "Parvati says the name always is fully visible to the observer, but I haven't verified that."

"Your professor says that despite the bond, you are not active, nor will the bond require you to do so," Hermoine's mother said, before taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "Is this true?"

Hermione blushed. "Mum! I can barely get Harry to hug me. If I don't do it right, he flinches and pulls away. Anyway, I'm not going to do that with him." Of course, now that her mother had brought the idea up, she was thinking about it. She pushed the image down. "Harry won't do anything." Silently she added to herself, yet.

"That's good to hear. Now, I think we need to talk about Harry. Professor McGonagall has approached us about possibly fostering him over the summer. There is apparently some issue with his Aunt and Uncle."

Hermione took a deep breath before she started to respond. This was not going to be easy. She wanted to create a good impression of Harry. He was, after all, going to be the father of her mother's first grandchild, not that she was going to start with that. That was the problem, where to start.

"Start at the beginning, Hermione."

Sometimes Hermione thought her mum could read her mind, which was really worrying sometimes. She did not want to tell her mother everything.

"I met him on the Express. He was dressed in this ratty flannel over a grayed T-shirt. I don't think he has a really nice outfit. He was sitting with Ron Weasley, and had no idea how he was seen in the Wizarding World."

"How is he seen?"

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived, the only person to have ever survived the Killing Curse. As a toddler he was credited as killing a Dark Lord who everyone is afraid to name when his parents were killed. No one is quite sure how it happened, and Harry doesn't remember it, really. So he had no idea why he was seen as, to quote Professor Snape, 'our new celebrity.'

"I don't think Harry likes it. I think he objects to praise that he doesn't earn. I know he has no problem with compliments about playing Seeker in Quidditch, and once I got him to study, being told that he was the number two First Year had him smiling. Apparently his mother had been top in her year all through Hogwarts."

"I take it that you're still number one?" her mum asked.

"Of course ... though Harry is making me work for it, especially since we started the house first year study group. He's really good at the practicums."

"What do you know about his home situation?"

"It's bad, really bad. I don't think I know it all, yet. Professor McGonagall has him meeting Child Protective Services over the holidays. He grew up with his aunt and uncle. His uncle apparently beat him, and he was forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs until he got his Hogwarts letter. He hasn't said much about his aunt, I get the impression that she's not nice to him, but in comparison to the rest, she's an oasis. His cousin Dudley likes to do something called Harry Hunting, and is a real bully that needs to be put in his place."

Hermione couldn't think what to say next. She wanted to say something, anything. She was afraid that her mother would ask the one question she wasn't really to answer.

"Professor McGonagall tells me that," her mother began, and Hermione finished in her mind during her mother's slight pause to take a sip, 'you are pregnant.' "Hogwarts rules required you to live in an attached accommodation to Harry's dorm room. What is that like?"

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. "Well, from the outside it looks a bit like that big wardrobe of Grandmother Granger, you know the one with the lion on the front?" Her mother nodded. "The first time Harry and I opened, we swung the normal clothes hanging part back in the inside, and it revealed my bed, which has these book shelves all around it, I don't even have to get up to get something to read. Harry won't let me stay in the wardrobe though. He only lets me close the doors when I or one of the other boys in the dorm are changing."

"Other boys? I hadn't quite realized that you were rooming with a score of them."

"Only five, and my wardrobe is really a separate room," Hermione defended. "I do have to share the bathing facilities, but only Harry is allowed to come in when I'm using them. That's just really because someone has to be able to check to see if I'm in there, I think."

"Wendy! Where is my tie?" Hermione's father's voice interrupted, before another question could be asked.

"It's right behind your bathroom door, Monty," Hermione's mother called back, looking at her watch. "Look at the time. Are you sure that you'll be all right while your father and I have lunch with Mr. Capulet?"

"I'm sure Mum," Hermione replied. "Especially if you'll let me make another mug of hot chocolate."

"Your father will probably lecture us about your teeth for doing so, but he just doesn't understand chocolate. Go right ahead. If you run into any trouble, you can call or go see Mrs. Richardson."

"Yes Mother," Hermione replied with great relief as her mother left the room. After a few more sips, her hot chocolate was done, but she decided to wait to make her next mug. Mum had given permission, but it would be best to not let Dad see her making it. He seemed to think she was going to get burned every time.

As for calling Mrs. Richardson, or horror of horrors, visiting her ... Mrs. Richardson's perfume would probably trigger her morning sickness, despite the potion she'd taken this morning, at the very least. She certainly didn't plan on listening to the widow's diatribe on proper behavior of children, like when she was growing up.

No, she was going to make another mug of hot chocolate, and wait for Harry to call like he promised.

* * *

It had taken way too long for Harry to find time to call Hermione. He missed her, but the interviews with Child Protective Services had taken most of the first week of his holiday. They were not just his interviews. Victoria had her share of them, and Harry had found himself sitting with her during the later ones, and she doing the same for him. It made it easier having someone who had also been abused there.

He was glad he'd been born a boy now. Victoria had it a lot worse, in his opinion. Victoria said otherwise, but Harry had only been beaten and yelled at. Victoria had been raped.

It had only been ten minutes since the last interview that Victoria had. They'd made a habit of spending time, mostly in silence, together after each interview. Harry was of the opinion that the interviewers really didn't believe either of them. Usually that time stretched into an hour, at the very least, but Victoria had received an owl. Harry thought the eagle owl that had delivered the message was somehow familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. So, he had time to call, for once.

"Is Hermione in?" Harry asked, when a man's voice answered the phone. "This is her friend, Harry Potter."

"Hermione!" Harry heard the man's voice call distantly. "It's a boy!"

There was some fumbling of the phone, before he heard the familiar voice of the mother-to-be of his child. That thought was a surprisingly comforting one, after a visit from the Child Protective Services interviewers. "Da-a-a-a-d-dy!"

There was some fumbling with the phone, before Harry heard Hermione's voice clearly. "Harry! What took you so long to call."

"Interviews with the idiots from Child Protective Services," Harry replied dryly, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Why do I think you're holding back on me?" Hermione's voice cajoled him.

Harry found himself responding to her, just like he had every time she hugged him. "Okay, interviews with the bloody idiots who apparently can't do anything until it's bloody too late. They thought it would be a brill idea for Victoria and I to go home to our respective parents in order to reconcile the situation. I thought maybe it was just because I didn't show many signs of it, but with Victoria?

"She's in her sixth month with her step-father's baby, with three younger siblings at home. And they think she's lying. Professor Snape really set them straight though. He was bloody brill when that counselor suggested that Victoria go see her father."

"Language, Harry," the admonishment came as soon as he paused. He could see the expression on Hermione's face. "I swear, I leave you alone a few nights to talk with Ron, and suddenly you're putting bloody after everything."

"Hey, he's the only one in our dorm that has a sister near our age. I need that advice."

"Are you implying, Harry, that you have to seek advice to understand me," Hermione asked. The tone was actually a bit teasing Harry judged.

"Hermione, there is absolutely no way I have any way to totally understand you," Harry replied. He believed that with all his heart. As soon as he thought he understood what Hermione was feeling, it seemed like she changed like lightning. One minute she was smiling, the next crying her eyes out. She blamed her pregnancy. Harry wasn't that sure. He hadn't really understood her before the troll.

"We'll work on that," Hermione said. "Now, are you going to give me any hints about the book you got me?"

"Who says it's a book?" Harry shot back. It was, but Harry wasn't going to tell Hermione that. As Dean had explained, there was a certain something to anticipation of Christmas. He had not got the pleasure of guessing about the gifts under the tree before. This year in the bed and breakfast, for the first time that was changing. He was looking forward to Christmas. For once he wasn't worried about the goose.

"It weights right, it's the right shape, and I think I can feel the ribs of it's binding," Hermione enumerated.

"That assumes that I didn't get Professor McGonagall to put it under a timed transfiguration spell." Harry grinned. "It could be a complete Chuddley Cannons Fan kit." That was what he had got Ron. "Or maybe a lot of Cadbury Dairy Milk bars." He'd gotten that for Sally-Anne.

"You know my parents won't let me have that," Hermione wailed. Harry knew that. He also knew that Hermione was the most likely to steal from Sally-Anne's milk tray boxes.

"Blame it on a pregnancy craving," Harry advised. He was fairly certain the most of Hermione's cravings were not real. There were exceptions, of course. There was no other way to explain her request for cod with cherry sauce.

"I haven't told them yet." The admission was soft, almost inaudible.

"Why?" That had been the primary reason that Hermione had gone home, or at least that's what she had told Harry.

"I haven't found the right time," Hermione said. "They always seem so busy. And they let me go to the parties this year. I got a real dress, and Mum let me wear make up! You should have seen the estate, all dressed up for Christmas. They had boughs of holly, and the trees were all lit up with blinking white lights ...

Harry let Hermione continue to describe her night at the Christmas party. Someday, he hoped he'd be able to go with her, but for now, he'd listen and keep his mind off the other things.

* * *

_As usual, Compliments, Complaints, Comments, Corrections, and Critique accepted eagerly._


	5. January

_**Author's Note**_

_The muse is really skipping around, so I'm not sure which stories are going to be updated when. That being said, the next chapter has some already done._

**Chapter Four**

Eight First Year students can fit in one compartment on the Hogwarts Express, if they're willing to be very close, four on each side. With Ron and Sally-Anne having remained at Hogwarts, that left seven Gryffindors, plus Parvati's Ravenclaw sister. Harry had invited them all to share, and none of them had declined. Harry had been sure someone would. He'd just finished telling everyone what Snape had told him about his mother. The fact that Snape had told him about his mother lead to a slight bit of disbelief in the expressions of his dorm mates especially.

Harry had helped his new Slytherin third year friend Victoria get settled in her own compartment, where she had been joined by Malfoy. Harry had been surprised when Malfoy had apologized for his behavior. He'd left her with Malfoy and Professor Snape.

Since they had left King's Cross, Hermoine had her arm around Harry. It had started shortly after she'd greeted him. It felt right to have her sitting next to him, her arm around him, snuggled close.

"So, anyone else have something interesting happen over Christmas?" Harry asked. His eyes focused on Parvati, whose hair was unusually messy, and it looked like her blouse had seen better days. Her sister appeared to be in a similar state, though Padma was already engrossed in a book. They'd been warned that nothing got through to Padma when she was reading.

"I am never taking a train in India, again," Parvati declared. "Here in Britain we can sit down on the inside of the train. All the way from Mumbai to Nagpur, on the outside of the train. The first three stations, I was hanging on the side. My father wanted to kill his older brother for not coming to pick him up. Needless to say, the rest of the holiday was very stressful. My father decided that a couple days in Majorca would be just the thing, to relieve that stress, and it wasn't bad. Though the flight back, Padma and I were caught between this whale of a man and his giraffe necked wife with their pig of a son. I swear I wanted to turn that boy into one."

The description was too close for Harry not to respond. "Did the woman call the boy her little Dudley-kins?" He asked. Parvati returned a shocked nod. "I guess that's why the social worker gave up trying to get me to go home to resolve the issues with the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia got her long wished for Christmas in Majorca."

"Harry, if I'd know it was them, I would have had Daddy complete the transformation that Hagrid started," Parvati said. "Sitting in between that man and his child ... I will not repeat the terms he used to refer to my sister and I. Lavender, I heard that you spent part of your Christmas in Southern France."

"My uncle needed me for cover, apparently," Lavender said. "I have no idea what Uncle Charlie really does for the Navy, but Mom volunteered me to go Toulon to join him for his trip home. Mom's got some new job at Thames House. I'm not sure what it is, though. Anyway, I met him on the beach next to the Harbor, just as the sun was setting. It was a beautiful sun set, with yellows, reds, and oranges streaking across the thin streaks of clouds over the harbor. Uncle Charlie actually came right out of the water to greet me."

"Did you take a picture?" Dean interrupted.

Lavender smiled, and reached into her jacket, pulling out the picture. "I knew you'd ask, anyway, he had a place to stay just a couple blocks from their. It was a nice little suite of rooms. We spent the night there, before heading to Paris in an Aston Martin who Charlie said he'd borrowed from his friend Jaime, and I was not to press any of the buttons.

"It was kind of fun. We got to Lyon in time for lunch, which we had at this little café. There was some commotion just as we sat down though. Someone drove a caravan into a news stand, apparently trying to avoid some birds. Uncle Charlie blamed his friend Jaime Suerte, although I later learnt that Suerte was not his actual last name. It was a nice lunch, the best bread I've ever had.

"We had dinner in Paris, and Uncle Charlie took me to see the Louvre the next morning. I really enjoyed looking at the art. I'm sure you wished you'd been there, Dean. We left Paris after lunch, and ended up taking the ferry home to Portsmouth from Caen. We did have to use one of those buttons... but National Security prevents me from telling you what it did."

"Come on, Lavender, you can't leave us like that, especially with such a lame excuse," Dean said. Seamus nodded in agreement.

"Sorry, can't tell you, I swore an oath," Lavender said. "Of course, if you're very nice, I might be able to show you a picture ... later. How was your Christmas, Dean?"

Harry really wanted to find out what the car was modified to do. Buttons implied that, but the big smile on Lavender's face said, it was going to be a while before she let this secret out. It would come out, he was sure though. For now, though, he wanted to find out what happened to Dean, who Harry had just noticed had a cast on his right arm and wrist. "Yes, I think we all want to know how you got that cast."

"You want to hear about the Christmas served in Hell," Dean said, drawing the word Hell, his eyes wide, effecting an expression of derangement.

"Well, with that introduction, yes," Seamus replied.

"Well, it all started on the way home from Nine and Three Quarters," Dean began, in a much more normal tone. "Mum was driving, and she hit a patch of black ice right before we got home. She lost control of the car. The car ended up totaled, upside down, in Miss McGreavney's front garden. Whole family ended up in the hospital, and I broke my wrist. Didn't get out until Christmas Eve Morning.

'That's when we discovered that the heat had went out and the pipes froze. Busted the tank above my little sister's bedroom, making it totally unlivable."

"What's a tank?" Neville asked.

"Storage place for water in the house," Dean said, shrugging. "Don't ask me how it works, I never quite figured that out. I just know that it apparently busted due to the cold, and the water ruined my little sister's ceiling, bed, rug ... just about everything she owned, really. So, my little sister got to sleep on my bed, and I got the couch."

Then with a big smile he continued, "I did get to see my sister's dwarf lop get all lit up when it started chewing on the Christmas Tree lights. Of course, I had to put fresh lights on the tree afterwards, but it was a wonderful thing to see."

"Your sister has a bunny rabbit?" Harry asked. He'd caught a cartoon on the telly during break, so he just had to ask Dean when he nodded. "So, does she love him, and hug him, and call him George?"

"No, Rab-rab," Dean said. "As far as I know its never taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque. She does love him and hug him though." Then after a moments pause he continued, "She is abominable."

Harry laughed. "So how was your Christmas, Seamus?" he asked.

"It was really good," Seamus said. "I got to sing a solo at the Christmas Eve Mass at Saint Columcille. I didna expect to, but Finnian's voice went, and Father Quinn asked if I'd take his place, as I'd sung it last year."

"You sing, Seamus?" Lavender asked. "I've never heard you sing."

"Neither have I, and you have to be good to get to sing on Christmas Eve," Hermione said.

Harry had missed Christmas Eve Service. It had been the first time in six years that he hadn't been at Saint Philip's, left in the back, away from the rest of the Dursley's, but there. It had been the one thing he'd looked forward to in the Christmas Holidays before Hogwarts, and he hadn't thought to ask about going. He missed the hymns of the holidays. "I'd like to hear some," Harry asked, tentatively.

"I guess I can sing a bit," Seamus allowed. "Course most of them are Latin."

"Sing," Harry said firmly.

Semus took a deep breath, and began to sing, his clear treble voice filling the otherwise silent compartment.

"Adeste Fideles  
Laeti triumphantes  
Venite, venite in Bethlehem  
Natum videte  
Regem angelorum"

As Harry listened to the words, his mind went back to one of those Christmas Services, seeing in his mind the star over Bethlehem, coming to settle above the manger.

"Venite adoremus,  
Venite adoremus,  
Venite adoremus,  
Dominum"

A baby in a manger. A baby growing inside Hermione. The image of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus, one which always filled his memories from those Christmas Eves, changed, the Virgin Mary replaced by his Hermione.

"Cantet nunc io  
Chorus angelorum  
Cantet nunc aula caelestium  
Gloria,Gloria in excelsis Deo"

Harry looked over at Hermione. The edge of his new glasses caught the light just right seeming to place a hallo over her head. As the chorus began again, her voice, and that of Lavender joined Seamus.

"Venite adoremus,  
Venite adoremus,  
Venite adoremus,  
Dominum"

Harry placed his arm around Hermione, matching that which she had been doing since they had sat down in the compartment. Seamus sang the verse alone.

"Ergo qui natus  
Die hodierna  
Jesu, tibi sit gloria  
Patris aeterni  
Verbum caro factus"

Harry pulled Hermione closer to him, his hand dropping to her waist afterwards as the whole compartment joined Seamus in the chorus.

"Venite adoremus,  
Venite adoremus,  
Venite adoremus,  
Dominum"

The Christmas Holidays were over, but the rest of the trip, other songs could be heard coming from the First Year Gryffindor compartment.

* * *

Harry Potter was still not comfortable in Hermione's wardrobe. It still reminded him way too much of the cupboard under the stairs. Still, when Hermione had asked for his help putting up the books she'd brought back, he had walked right in. He hadn't expected that Hermione would have already changed for bed, though he should have, given that she'd warned everyone that she was going strait to the baths right after they returned from the Great Hall.

Hermione had apparently received a new nightgown for Christmas. The old one had been light, and made of a gold satin. This one, however, was a deep hunter green, and apparently flannel, much better for winter in Scotland. As Hermione reached upwards to place the book he'd gotten her on an upper shelf above her bed, Harry noticed that it wasn't flowing quite as smoothly down her belly as the old one had. He handed her another book, and let his hand slid down her belly. It wasn't flat anymore. Not bulging, yet, but not flat as it had been.

"So, how did your parents react when you told them?" Harry asked the question that he knew that Hermione had been avoiding since they got on the Express. He'd let her do that. It seemed to need a private discussion.

He barely heard her reply. "Didn't tell them." Hermione looked down, then dropped down to sit on her bed.

Harry sat down beside her. "You didn't tell them? You made this big deal about how it had to be done in person, and that you were going to do it over the Christmas Holidays. And now you tell me that you didn't tell them? Hermione you had over three weeks, twenty-three days. Why didn't you tell them?"

Hermione's eyes met Harry's. She seemed to be almost afraid to talk. Her mouth opened and closed several times without a sound escaping. Finally the words escaped her. "I couldn't tell them. Every time I was going to, I got this irrational fear that they'd kick me out, or take me away from you. I'd be about to say it, and then they'd say something, either about how much they loved me being home, or about how grown up I was, and I couldn't say it or interrupt them.

"I know I wanted to tell them in person, but I couldn't. I practiced what I wanted to say, even saying it to my mirror at home, but nothing seemed to be right. I wanted to, I really wanted to, Harry, but I couldn't look them in the eye and tell them that their little girl was going to have a baby."

Harry had no idea what to say to that, no idea what to do. Hermione looked like she was lost, looking for help that she was sure wasn't coming. She was starting to cry. Harry searched his mind for some response. The thought came to his mind, what would Hermione do? He almost laughed at the sudden ironic thought, lending a smile to his face, as he pulled Hermione close. Hugging wasn't something he was entirely comfortable doing, yet, but it was what Hermione did when he was upset. It was time to return the favor.

He wasn't sure how long he held his crying Hermione in his arms. Eventually, the crying petered out to just sniffles. He reached into his robes, glad that he hadn't changed for bed yet, and pulled out his handkerchief. Hermione blew her nose in it, and then looked up at Harry. He figured that it was his turn to talk, to take charge for the moment.

"Hermione, you're writing to your parents to tell them tonight. We'll put it in the mail tomorrow, and I want to read it first," Harry ordered. He was not going to let her get out of telling her parents. "I don't want you to surprise them at the end of the year by showing up about to give birth or holding our baby."

Hermione nodded, but did not break from the hug. Her head moved to rest on Harry's right shoulder, and Harry's arms found themselves holding her close. He had no idea how long the hug lasted, but when it finally broke, she slid under the covers of her bed.

Harry wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but he pulled the blankets up to Hermione's neck, and gently laid a kiss on her forehead as her eyes closed. With a soft "Nox" he turned off the main light in the wardrobe and stepped out. He laid a finger across his lips as Ron entered, indicating that Hermione was already asleep. Accepting his return nod, Harry gathered his stuff and headed to take his night time shower.

As he turned off the shower, he continued to think about Hermione. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with her. He chuckled a bit as he realized that his actions tonight were defined in his mind as channeling Hermione. Both of them were a bit of a mess, really. He had how he'd grown up, and she had what the ritual had done to her. As he picked up the soap and began to lather up his wash cloth, he resolved to make sure he knew what Hermione was in for.

Hermione had been there when he broke down. She had not thought him a freak, or unworthy of friendship. Hermione had held him, and given him attention and care that he hadn't realized that he needed until she had. She'd listened to him. She'd held him when the nightmares of Uncle Vernon's treatment of him came, after he'd admitted everything. Hermione was ... Harry wasn't sure what Hermione was to him. He'd never had someone who cared for him before, really.

Harry had missed her over Christmas. Learning about his mother from Snape had been unexpected, and Professor McGonagall had really been there for him when the social worker had talked to him. Nothing was like Hermione though. Since Halloween they'd become really good friends. They did homework together, they ate together, and once, after one of Neville's potions disaster that had left them all covered with gooey sap that had penetrated their uniforms, even washed each other's back.

Ron, Dean, and Seamus had been quite upset about the fact that the new wards had only let him clean up in the shower at the same time as Hermione. Actually he thought that they thought Hermione should wait until they were done first. That sap had been awful. Since then Hermione had taken to doing her bath way before anyone else. Since she needed more rest due to her pregnancy, none of the boys were objecting to that.

Harry picked up his shampoo and began to wash his hair. Back in Surrey, Harry had been a loner, by virtue of his cousin's bullying. That wasn't the case at Hogwarts. Ron had been his first friend, and then Hermione had joined them. Once Hermione had moved into the boys dorm, however, it was as if the flood gates had opened.

He'd discussed football with Dean, and talked to Seamus about rural Ireland, where Harry thought it would be nice to visit someday. Neville turned out to be a font of knowledge on plants, and Harry had discussed Aunt Petunia's garden with him several times. If he should ever have to return to Privet Drive, Harry was sure he could really make that garden prize winning. Aunt Petunia's roses had come close already.

Then there were the girls. They were not what Harry had expected. Lavender turned out, in addition to being a gossip, to have a fascination with sailing vessels. She'd shown him a ship in a bottle model of the Cutty Sark that she'd made. It had surprised not just him, but the other girls too. Pavrati had a bit of a gossip to her, as well, but Harry trusted her. She'd been the one who had helped him alter his clothes so they fit him right. Sally-Ann and her sweet tooth had introduce him to a whole class of homemade in the dorm candies that Harry couldn't get enough of, even if Hermione said wasn't good for him.

After one last rinse, Harry stepped out of the shower and picked up his towel. Ron was already there. They'd got their timing for showers down quite well. Harry wasn't afraid of showing his scars to his roommates anymore. It had come out in the open already. Hermione had been right. It had been awkward when it was brought up, but it was like ripping off a bandage, best it be over quickly.

He put on his new pyjamas, a surprise gift from Professor McGonagall, and reentered the dorm. Dean was already in bed, and it looked like Seamus was just waiting his turn. Neville hadn't come up yet. Harry bet that Neville was still going over Herbology with Lavender. He looked at where Hermione laid asleep in the wardrobe, before sliding under his own covers and letting sleep overtake him.

* * *

Hedwig was not your average postal owl, and she was very fortunate to have a companion who believed that in the core of his very being. In those first days between the Diagon Alley and the Hogwarts Express behind what Hedwig called the damned number four, her Harry had talked to her, beginning a bond between them that would not easily be broken.

Hedwig had a lot of time to think, and her Harry gave her a lot to think about. If Hedwig had the power to do so, Vernon Dursley would be dead. Being a post owl, she did not. However, as card carrying member of the Avian Transport Union, she was doing her part to convince the pigeons to target Vernon's prized car, now that her Harry didn't have to clean it.

Since they'd arrived at Hogwarts, Hedwig had spent quite a bit of time in Gryffindor Tower. As a familiar, the owl was allowed to stop by his room any time. It wasn't uncommon for Harry to wake up and match eyes with Hedwig in the morning from her perch at the foot of the bed. Hedwig loved the turned rail there. It was just the right thickness at just the right place, and no were else so she would never have to share it.

She did have to share her Harry. Hedwig didn't really have much complaint about that. Harry didn't use her much for her intended purpose. Since Hermione had moved into the boys dorm, she'd got a lot more use. Hedwig loved long flights, and the one to Crawley, well in the last two months, Hedwig had learnt that route to perfection.

Hedwig took pride in her delivery times. She knew every last trick to speed her journey between Hogwarts and Crawley. She'd once had to swing by Devon, to deliver a letter to the Weasleys, and in the process had discovered that a little swing over the Irish Sea actually sped the journey along. Rolf, the elder of the Parliament of Owls of Hogwarts believed otherwise, but he was an old feather duster, not an active owl in their prime.

It was winter time, so open window to enter the muggle home of her Harry's Hermione was not likely. Fortunately, Hedwig knew the schedule of the Grangers. As she banked past the church's clock tower, she noted the time, twelve minutes until three. If she timed it just right, she should be able to arrive just as Mrs. Granger pulled into the garage.

Hedwig came up on the house, and spotting the red Vauxhall, she lined herself up for the dive. The garage door opened, and Hedwig dropped from the sky. With just centimeters to spare, she pulled up, leveling out just above the top of the car. Carefully she dropped speed, before landing on the handle of the mower that was kept just to the left of where Hermione's mother pulled in.

"Good Afternoon, Hedwig," Mrs. Granger said as she opened the car door. "A letter from Hermione already, I see." Hedwig bobbed her head in acknowledgment.

Hedwig liked Mrs. Granger. She always talked to her. The letter was carefully removed from her leg. An arm was absentmindingly raised for Hedwig to jump on, as they exited the garage for the side door. "I see you're to wait for the return letter?" Hedwig bobbed her head again.

Mrs. Granger headed for the parlor. Hedwig approved of the choice. There was an old ashtray stand there, inherited from Hermione's Great Aunt Alberta, that made a perfect perch, with the hand hold that arced over the ash tray. The painting of a sailing ship above the mantel was also from Great Aunt Alberta. "So Hedwig, I hope the trip wasn't so bad. I hear there is a bit of a storm coming." Hedwig filed this away, as she moved to that perch.

Mrs Granger sat down on her favored rocking chair. Hedwig had once tried perching on the back of that chair. It had made her sick. Mrs. Granger began to read the letter. Hedwig had no idea what was in the letter, but she had a feeling it had to do with something that had happened between her Harry and Hermione.

"I knew there had to be more too it," Mrs. Granger mumbled. "Couldn't bring herself to tell me, I see. Hopes that I won't throw her out for it. Why does she think that? Oh that girl, intelligent, but sometimes, I just don't think she uses her mind."

Hedwig had to laugh, not that any human really knew that her sounds were laughter. Mrs. Granger looked up at the owl, with a smile. Hedwig knew what that meant.

"Come on, Hedwig, I think I need a cup of tea so I can figure out how to tell Monty about this, and write a letter before he gets back," Mrs Granger said. "An you deserve some bacon."

Oh yes, bacon. Hedwig loved her bacon. The letter probably wouldn't take long. If Hedwig was any judge, Mrs. Granger wanted to send out the reply before her husband became aware of the letter. She knew that it was Mrs. Granger who ran the household. Mr. Granger may, as he said, bring home the bacon, but Mrs. Granger gave Hedwig the bacon. Hedwig liked Mrs. Granger.

Hedwig flew to meet her in the kitchen. There would be the scent of hot Earl Grey tea, soon, and Hedwig could plot her course back to Hogwarts. Perhaps running through Wiltshire instead of East of London this time, might make a faster run.

* * *

Hermione did not make it to her second class of the day. She had been feeling nauseous since she had woken up. She hadn't been able to keep her breakfast down either. If she was perfectly honest, she hadn't really been feeling well even on the train ride back, but it had gotten progressively worse since she'd arrived back at Hogwarts.

She'd found the start of winter term feast to be unappetising. What little she'd managed to consume hadn't stayed down, and breakfast had been worse. She'd managed to get to Transfiguration, but after fainting and with the dry heaves that had hit her, Professor McGonagall had sent her directly to the Hospital Wing.

As she stepped into the Hospital Wing, she discovered that Susan Bones and Draco Malfoy were already seated on beds. . They seemed to be juggling. That being said, it didn't look like the two balls that were passing between them were actually being thrown. Susan would release one, and it would start to drop, only to suddenly fly to Draco's hand. He'd drop one, and it would fly to Susan's free hand.

Hermione watched as the two started to get a bit more complex. Draco, threw a ball up, in a nice high arc, before grabbing another ball to add to the group. Susan followed suit.

They got up to eight balls weaving between the two, as Draco exclaimed. "This kind of fun!"

Hermione found herself following a yellow ball, unable to pull her attention from them.

"Yes, but how do we stop?" Susan said, adding a ninth ball into the mix. "I mean, we can't drop any of this."

Hermione was beginning to get dizzy, her body swaying. Her nausea was starting to increase again, too. She could feel her hands getting clammy.

"Miss Granger!" Madam Pomfrey suddenly cried out, as Hermione found herself losing her balance.

The next thing Hermione knew, she was on a bed, somehow already in a gown. "You took the potion I gave you every day over break, Miss Granger?"

"Yes ma'am," Hermione said, recalling that she hadn't wanted to risk having her morning sickness expose her pregnancy before she informed her parents. She hoped Hedwig would be back soon.

"Well, I did tell you that you could use all the doses, but you won't be having any more of it any time soon," the nurse said. "You did not follow the guidelines for water intake over your break, it seems. You are quite dehydrated, in addition to your nausea and vomiting, to the point that you are suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum. I shall keep you hear at least a week while we rectify that."

"But what about my classes," Hermione began, before being interrupted.

"Young lady, your health and that of your baby is more important than any class you are taking," Pomfrey lectured. Hermoine sunk down in her bed. "I am sure that your friends, at the very least Mister Potter, will be happy to take notes for you. None of your professors will have anything against you being in my care. They all know better than to argue about that. I will let you do assignments for them while you are under my care ... assuming that you get well enough to do so."

Pomfrey pulled out large pitcher filled with a pink liquid and placed it and a glass on a table next to Hermione's bed. "I expect you to consume all of this within the next two hours. Take it slowly though. If you feel like it's going to start coming up, stop and let me know. It shouldn't, but you let this go way too long."

Hermione picked up the glass, and with a contrite expression took the first slip. It tasted a bit like a lemon, but a little bit salty as well. Madam Pomfrey smiled at her. Hermione took a larger sip. She could drink this stuff, whatever it was. It tasted better than the anti-morning sickness potion.

"Very good, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said. "Mister Potter, you may visit for the next half hour, but I will not write an excuse if you're late to your next class."

Harry stepped around the divider, which Hermione could still see a few balls arcing above. It looked like Harry had really been worried about her. His hair was messier than usual, and his tie appeared to have been crumpled quite a bit, something that she knew he did when he was really worried about something. She'd taken to removing the tie in order to save it sometimes. He had an envelope in his hands, which he'd apparently opened and closed several times. It had the large G at the left of the return address and was in the pink parchment print style that her mother favored.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry said as he approached the bed.

"Madam Pomfrey is working on that," Hermione said, taking a bit too large of a swallow. "This stuff is way too salty for my tastes. Apparently I haven't been drinking enough water."

"That's enough, Mister Malfoy, Miss Bones," Madam Pomfrey's voice echoed over the divider. "No need to get that elaborate while you burn out that curse."

Hermione looked at Harry, putting the glass down for moment.

"Malfoy and Bones apparently got cursed to pass everything to each other," Harry explained. "Professor Flitwick sent them her after their first class today. He thought they were passing notes to each other at first."

"Is that a letter from my mother," Hermione asked, reaching out for the envelope.

"Yes, and I'm to read it to you, with appropriate tone," Harry said. "I hope I get this right...

"Hermione Jean Granger, I would think that you would know better than to think that I would disown you for getting pregnant through no fault of your own. That begin said, I understand why, and I shall be careful in breaking the news to your father. I shall expect regular updates to your progress, from both yourself and Madam Pomfrey.

"Knowing your habits, I suspect that you are quite worried about your condition. I know that you would not believe me if I said that I did not worry as well. I will not disabuse you of that certainty. I will however, make sure that you are adequately supplied with your usual method of allying your worries. Please ask Harry what the maximum his owl can carry, as I shall be sending quite a number of books for you to read about pregnancy.

"As your father is due home in just a few minutes, I shall end this letter here.

"Your mum."

Hermoine found herself in tears, as the tension and worry she'd built since she found out that she was pregnant released just a bit. Through the tears she could see Harry looking at her with concern. She sat up a bit, and opened her arms, hoping he'd respond. Harry took the hint and soon she found herself in an awkwardly positioned hug. He held her until the tears ended and she pulled away.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said, wiping her tears away with a tissue from the supply on the table at her side.

Harry nodded, then awkwardly said, "I should be getting to class, soon. I'll bring your books before dinner."

Hermione nodded her acceptance of the proposal, and watched as Harry disappeared around the divider. "Watch where you're throwing that Malfoy," she heard him say before the doors of the hospital wing opened and closed again.

Hermione hadn't been sure that Harry would hug her. He had though, and it made her feel much better. She liked hugging Harry, and she was sure that Harry was beginning to get used to and like hugging too. He'd been so scared the first time she'd tried to hug him. It had been like he was afraid to be touched. She knew why now. He'd never had good touch, good feelings from his aunt and uncle. Hermione was determined that Harry was not going to go back to those people. She wasn't sure how she could make sure that happened, but she was sure going to try. No one hurt her Harry.

* * *

Harry held his finger to his lips as Ron entered the dorm room. Hermione was asleep, and he didn't want to wake her. She was finally back in the wardrobe after almost two weeks ... two weeks in the Hospital Wing recovering. He stood on the threshold of the wardrobe, watching her.

She'd gone up early to shower and change for bed. Harry had been told to make sure that Hermione got plenty of rest for the next few days, so he'd sent her up a hour ahead of normal time. He'd come up a few minutes ago to check on her. He'd found her in bed, apparently having fallen asleep reading. Harry had put the book up, carefully marking her place with one of her bookmarks, and eased her under the covers without waking her.

"Parvati needs some help with her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework," Ron whispered into Harry's left ear. "She wants to know if you'll be back down."

Harry nodded, still looking at his Hermione. Ron turned and left. Harry took a deep breath, and reentered the wardrobe. He kissed her forehead and whispered, "Sleep well, Hermione." He stepped back out and closed the doors, so that no one would disturb her.

Harry picked up his Defense Book from where he'd tossed it on his bed and headed back down to the Common Room. The Common Room was bright and there was a mummer of conversation that Harry could hear from the moment he stepped out of the First Year Boys room. As he stepped on to the floor, he could see that his fellow First Years had managed to reclaim the alcove from the Fifth Years who had been using it to work on some sort of joint project.

"Harry, you have no idea how glad I am that you came back down," Parvati said before Harry had even managed to cross the threshold of what they'd come to call the closed alcove that Professor McGonagall had made to provide privacy when they were told of Hermione's condition. "I'm totally confused about the jinx classification schema that Professor Quirrell explained today. What's the difference between a superficial curse and a surficial curse?"

Harry opened his book and turned to page hundred and three, to make sure he was right. "Here it is. A superficial curse causes the appearance of a change. They're most often actually charms. Color changing charms fall in those. A surficial curse actually changes a quality of the surface, which can be either a charm, curse, or a transfiguration, depending on duration and effect. Most often true surficial curses maintain themselves by replication. The pimple curses are the easiest examples to preform of those."

"Thanks Harry," Parvati said. "You explained that much better than Professor Quirrell did."

"It might have been the stuttering," Seamus said. "It's really annoying. Harry, I've checked your translation from Latin of that section you quoted for the charms homework. You were a little off on the tenses, but not noticeably so. Two words should have been plural and weren't."

"Thanks Seamus," Harry said, receiving his parchment back. "Ron, you've been covering for Hermione in Transfiguration theory. Have you figured out why the spell blew Seamus's eyebrows instead of changing his water to rum."

"I'm still going to get you for tricking me into taking up all of Hermione's class research assignments in Transfiguration," Ron said. He'd picked up the task after Harry had told him that Hermione needed a little more help. Harry was sure that Ron had thought that she wanted Flying help. "I'm last in Gryffindor in that class, and pants at research in general."

"Yes Ron," Harry said. "Of course, that might have changed. Professor McGonagall is bringing the new standings soon. Now, what went wrong in theory with Seamus's spell."

"It was surprisingly easy to figure out, actually," Ron said. "Seamus, you added a bit of a f sound to your rum and ran it together with the word before, and that made it infrum, which is an incantation for fire. I can't find a rum Latin spell phraseology, but you can try vino and get wine instead. It works."

"I suppose you tried it?" Sally-Anne asked.

"Just a bit," Ron said. "I know better than to get drunk on it. I heard about how my oldest brother Bill took Percy out for a drink over Christmas. Percy is apparently a talkative drunk. Bill sent me a long list of things I'm supposed to causal mention to Percy in the next few months."

"How are Mr. And Mrs. Percy Weasley?" Lavender asked. "I haven't seen Percy as much since they came back from their honeymoon."

"Penny's having twins," Ron replied. "Fred and George are through the roof. They're hoping that they are both baby boys, and are lobbying to be godfathers. Penny's due in late June."

"Did you hear what Oliver said to Fred and George after the last Quidditch practice?" Seamus asked Ron.

"No, I was busy researching why your mistake occurred," Ron said. "What did he say?"

"He told them that they weren't allowed to approach the chasers, least that they put them on maternity leave." Seamus said, pulling a glass out and filling it with water.

"Trying the charm now?" Ron asked.

"When Professor McGonagall comes," Seamus said. "Hey, Hermione, done with your nap?"

Harry looked to discover that Hermione had apparently woken up while he was gone. She's put her robe over her night gown, but left it open. She'd apparently used her anklets to put on the black bunny slippers. "I set an alarm so I could be back in time for Professor McGonagall to tell us the standings."

"And I shall not keep you away from your sleep, Hermione," McGonagall said. "I'm sorry for the delay. The Headmaster was a little delayed in giving me your potions practical grades."

Harry was glad that the Headmaster had taken over teaching Potions to the first year Gryffindors. After Professor Dumbledore had seen the difference between a Gryffindor/Slytherin Class and both apart, he'd decided to officially take over teaching the Gryffindor First Years Potions. Harry had heard that he'd told Professor Snape that he missed teaching, and given the load that Professor Snape was under, and the need for Miss Granger not to be exposed to certain fumes, he was sure that the Professor wouldn't mind.

Harry wasn't sure about Snape, but he loved having Professor Dumbledore teach potions. It was an entirely different style of teaching. Sitting on the sofas in the Headmasters lab discussing the potions before and after brewing them was a lot different that Snape's lecture and do the potion.

"Hermione, I'm sure that is no surprise to you that you and Harry remain numbers one and two in your class," Professor McGonagall said. "Harry, you've managed to close the gap by two points. Of course I have one big surprise in ranking. As you know, all of you have found much improved potions grades under Professor Dumbledore than you hand under Professor Snape. I should note that the Slytherin grades have also improved due to the increased supervision levels. This has caused you as whole to shift up twenty points on average, once the Board of Governors accepted your petition.

"In one particular case, this has resulted in a massive change in ranking. Coupled with a three point improvement in Charms, and a five point improvement in Transfiguration practical, I'm proud to say that Hogwarts has a new number four in First Year. Congratulation, Mr. Weasley."

Harry looked over at his first friend at Hogwarts. Ron's face was quickly blushing to match his hair. His mouth had dropped open. It was clear that there wasn't going to be a single word out of him for quite sometime. Seamus slapped Ron on the back, and Ron looked up. Harry was sure that smile wasn't going from Ron's face in quite some time.

"Sally-Anne, twenty-third to seventh place. Well done. Parvati, up to eighth. Your sister is in sixth. And Neville Longbottom, that new wand is doing wonders for you, ninth. Lavender, you've made the top ten. Dean, up to twenty-third with a thirty-two point jump, the biggest improvement of all, and Seamus wasn't far behind in twenty-fifth.

"I'm quite pleased with all of your improvements this month. I expect that it will continue. Now, it is very close to lights out, so I expect that you all will be wrapping this up, so you can get a good night's sleep before tomorrow's quiz in Transfiguration." With that, the Professor turned and left, closing the doors behind her.

"Now she tells me," Ron exclaimed. "Like that I'm supposed to get a good night's sleep worrying about a quiz."

"Like you need to worry about it, Mister Number Four," Seamus shot back. "In vino vertus." His water darkened into red wine. "A toast to our new fourth and class, and to six of us being in the top ten already."

Everyone rose a glass to Seamus's, though only Seamus had done the charm. "To Ron and the top ten!"

After taking a sip, Seamus remarked, "that's the good stuff. Thank you Ron."

Harry saw that Hermione was about to make a statement that might start something, so he stood and placed an arm around her, turning her towards the doors. "Come on, Hermione, I'll tuck you in."

He guided Hermione back upstairs, finding the common room to be almost deserted. Harry opened the door for Hermione, and hung up her robe for her in the wardrobe. He lifted the covers, and Hermione slid back under them, into her bed. With the covers now pulled up to her neck, and her eyes closed, Harry bent over and placed a kiss on Hermione's forehead, the first time when she was actually awake.

"Harry?" Hermione queried.

"Yes Hermione."

"Next time, I'd like the kiss a little lower."


	6. Middle of February

Ritually Yours

_**Author's Note:**__ No younger siblings were harmed in the production of this chapter._

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"Harry, you know I have a little sister?" Ron said as he stood in the entrance to Hermione's Wardrobe. He hoped that he wasn't interrupting them too much. They'd departed to look at the books that Hermione's mother had sent. They were hefty ones, of the type that he knew Hermione had recently been forbidden to load her bag with.

"I think you brought it up, once or twice before," Harry said, looking up from the book he and Hermione were examining. "Something about her being a bit obsessive about her bedtime stories."

"Yeah, Ginny likes those fictional Boy-Who-Lived stories," Ron said. "I've written her, and told her that you're nothing like those stories, but ... well ... you're still her hero."

"I'm not a hero though," Harry said. "I mean, I just survived."

"You're my hero, Harry," Hermione said, putting her arm around Harry. Ron had noticed that Hermione did that a lot more since Christmas, and Harry seemed a lot more accepting of it. Back in September, Harry had often flinched when you put your arm on his shoulders.

"Well, I was thinking, there are a lot of people who think like Ginny, and well, you're going to keep running into them," Ron said, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands as he talked. "Maybe it might be a good idea to well, write something to do that, you know something to kind of break that a bit. And well, I think I might have a way."

"Really?" Harry said. Ron thought he looked a bit too eager for a solution, any solution.

"I found, okay Parvati found, this book which had letters between Merlin and a little girl named Guinevere, talking about what Merlin really did, and with my sister's name really being Ginevra, which is a form of Guinevere ... well, we might be able to do the same thing, and publish both of your letters. I wrote Ginny, and she's on board. I think she really wants to say she got a letter from you though."

"Maybe," Harry said, looking down at his hands. "I really wish I really knew what happened that night."

"The books seem to be contradictory on the subject," Hermione said. Ron noticed that Harry was suddenly centering his attention on her. He'd looked up and was looking right into Hermione's eyes. "The four I've identified as primary sources of the theories are quite different.

"The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord believes that it's related to the time between your birth and Halloween. However the provided calculations have several math errors that the editor did not appear to have caught. Real, basic proofreading is a lost art in publishing.

"Rita Skeeter's The Boy Who Lived seems to think that there is some intrinsic trait of Potter children, of which the author refuses to speculate further, though she insinuates that it might be due to a dark ritual done by, and I quote, 'the use of the blood of the boy's real pure blood mother.' which is simply ridiculous.

"Xenophilius Lovegood says, in his The Third Lord, that it's due to a hallowed cloth bestowed upon the Potters, which I admit, that stripped of the tabloid boy from Mars accompaniment actually sounds the most sensible. It also has the benefit of matching with the cloak that was a belated Christmas gift and return from the Headmaster ... not that the Headmaster admits that he returned it.

"Then there is Gilderoy Lockhart's acclaimed prequel to the Adventures of the Boy-Who-Lived, which claims, of all things, that your scar is actually a rune that your mother carved into your forehead, giving you special protection against dark lords at the cost of her own life. I strongly suspect, however, that Lockhart has a ghost writer for that book."

"I want to find out the real story, or as close as we can, before I start writing Ginny," Harry said, looking back at Ron. "Tell Ginny, though, that I want a letter from her, first. You can borrow Hedwig."

* * *

Harry was not sure how he was going to do this. Potions with Dumbledore had changed a bit when Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy had joined the class. It was not really a change in teaching, material, or anything like that. Class still began or ended with the discussion with Dumbledore on the sofas at the far end of the lab. It was the flavor of the class. Before it had been all Gryffindors, and Harry was friends with all of them.

It had been a bit tense when Draco had arrived. In Dumbledore's class, everyone was to use their first names, without exception. They hadn't know that Susan, Blaise, and Draco were joining them, and well, Ron had his particular prejudices. It had helped that Draco had been strangely silent since Christmas, aside from the pranks that kept enveloping him and Susan. But Draco was a Slytherin, and Ron ... well it was a good thing that Dumbledore didn't do partners.

It had been almost a week since then, and the class was beginning to settle again. Before the arrival of the three, Harry would have had a lot less of a problem bringing it up. It was, however, the only time that he really could talk with Dumbledore, and he really wanted the support of his friends when he did so.

His friends ... that was something that Harry was still getting used to. Before Hogwarts, he hadn't had friends. He'd been alone, bullied, afraid, and lost to the world. Now he had friends, and more than that. He had Hermione who was giving him real family, family which he had always wanted. With her and his friends at his side, he felt he could do anything.

Dumbledore was coming to the end of his review, finishing the answer to Draco. "The precise stirring count on this potion is a bit variable. In general the hue of blue should be a deep royal when you remove the stirrer. That being said, there is some use to the more baby blue that you obtained. It is often kept for children's doses. Any other questions?"

Harry took a deep breath, once he was sure that no one else had a potions related question. "It's not about potions, sir, but I think you might be the only one who can answer it."

"My door is always open to you, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Professor, what can you tell me about what really happened the night my parents died?" Harry began. "I've always wondered, and what Hermione and Pavrati have found, well it doesn't really add up. Some of the theories make less sense than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's died drunk in a car crash story."

The room went silent. The only sound was that of water dripping off the rinsed equipment used for the day's potions. Harry watched Dumbledore look around the room, catching the eyes of first one, then another of his classmates before meeting Harry's. They seemed to bore into Harry's own, silently asking, is this where and when you really want to know about this. Then with a nod, Dumbledore spoke.

"I'm afraid that I can not really tell what happened that night in Godric's Hallow. I shall tell you what I do know," Dumbledore began."I was not the first on the scene, nor the second. Your parents were protected by a charm that limited who knew where they were. Only the secret keeper or one that they had told in person or by written statement, could find the Godric's Hallow cottage that I had rented to them.

"As I was the owner, I had several charms monitoring the cottage, meant to alert me. Alas the charms are only as good as that of the monitor. They reside, still reside, in my office, still melted trinkets to remind me of my failure. I did not find out about the attack until after the Halloween feast."

Harry could tell that telling the story was already beginning to effect the Headmaster. The jolliness that had enthused his teaching had drained from his face, and there was a tone of genuine regret to his voice. Harry felt his own hand closing on Hermione's.

"Hagrid was the first on the scene. He'd promised Lily, your mother, to bring some select sweets from the feast. Lily had a real sweet tooth, and while hiding she could not often satisfy it. When he arrived, the front of your bedroom had already been blown out. I believe he retrieved you from outside the cottage.

"Hagrid had an encounter with Sirius Black, acknowledged to be the secret keeper for he ran off after Peter Pettigrew. When I arrived, I sent him to first take you to be examined by Madam Pomfrey before taking you to your Aunt's as she is your closest surviving relative. Then I set out to examine the scene closely.

"There were some runes carved in the cradle which you had been in, but it is uncertain who made them, and unfortunately the exact order and placement of the runes is uncertain due to the damage. I do know that your mother was the only other person in the room. Your father's body was found at the base of the stairs. Unlike your mother, he was not in a condition for open casket funeral.

"I think it is clear that your mother did something, and it probably involved runes in some fashion, that protected you. What it was, with the evidence obtainable, is a mystery. So, of course, every says they know, as there are very few ways to disprove those theories."

Dumbledore seemed to be sunk into his chair. "Harry, your parents were among the best witches and wizards that I have seen come through Hogwarts. I can not say that I knew them well. I was their headmaster, not their professor, so aside from a few classes where I took over for the usual professor for one reason or another, and from the interactions between myself and them when they were Head Boy and Head Girl, I can not really tell you a lot about them. It is one of my deepest regrets that I do not find ways to talk with students like this class more often.

"I have long said my door is always open to the students of Hogwarts. I try to keep it that way. Please, keep asking questions, keep open to talking. Don't let anyone stop you."

There was silence for a moment, as Dumbledore collected himself. He straightened in his chair, and cleaned his spectacles. Then finally, he spoke again. "I am sure you will have more questions, eventually about that night. Unfortunately, if I don't release you soon, you may be late for dinner, and Madam Pomfrey will be most cross with me."

* * *

Hedwig was a big believer in listening to one's elders. At least listening, not always following, of course. If she'd followed everything she wouldn't have found that fast way to Crawley. This time, she wasn't going to Crawley, though. She was on her way to Ottery Saint Catchpole, in Devon. She had know she was eventually going to end up going to the town. Her Harry was friends with the red head, after all.

Hedwig liked the red head, as he'd been the one to suggest that Harry give her a piece of bacon. Hedwig was addicted to bacon. That alone had given the red head a pass for many offenses. It had also led her to seek out his family owl, Errol.

Errol had a reputation of being a dedicated but somewhat lazy owl, though with a lot of dignity and wisdom. He also told some of the best stories in the entire parliament of owls who flew to Hogwarts. He had a real gift for story telling, and a treasure trove of old movie tales which he apparently got from a late night theater which had a tendency to play a lot of really old movies. Errol liked to say that his owners had named him after one of the stars of those old Robin Hood movies. It might have even been true, given what Hedwig had learned about the red head's parents.

In any case, Hedwig had taken the time to find out the best way to fly to the Burrow. As she was now in possession of a letter destined for one Ginny "baby sis" Weasley, Hedwig was making use of it. There was a very nice thermal that allowed an almost perfect glide into the kitchen of the Borrow. A last minute bank, and Hedwig was in the kitchen.

With a single cry, she led out her claw with the letter for Ginny Weasley to take. Hedwig knew that there were actually two letters folded together. She figured that Ginny would read the one from her Harry first. Ginny took the letter courteously, and immediately handed over a crispy piece of bacon. Hedwig quickly concluded that this little girl had her priorities right.

Errol was at the Burrow, but apparently still asleep on his perch as Hedwig found a comfortable position on a chair back next to Ginny.

The girl started reading, in between bites of her breakfast, every once in a while feeding Hedwig another bit of bacon. She wasn't one to sit still, and appeared to habitually twist her hair around her index finger. On finishing reading, she carefully put the letter aside, out of range of her breakfast.

There was another cry of another owl, a barn owl, as Hedwig received her sixth bit of bacon from the young girl who she was now sure was going to become her favorite person to deliver letters to. It was one of the Hogwarts owls dedicated to the use of Professors, Metis. Hedwig had passed Metis early in her journey, when she had soared up to the thermal as she crossed over Hadrian's Wall.

Metis landed next to Mrs. Weasley, and offered her a letter, then glared at Hedwig for monopolizing Ginny. Hedwig took another piece of bacon, and then moved aside a bit, so Metis could join her.

"I swear, Ginny, you're going to make every Hogwarts owl want to spend more time at the Burrow than Hogwarts," Mrs. Weasley said, as she opened the letter.

Hedwig knew that Metis jealously guarded her rights to deliver official letters to the Burrow. She now knew why, bacon.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Arthur's working Saturday ... Ginny, it seems that we're going to have to spend Saturday at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall wants me to come up there for a conference on Fred and George."

"Didn't Percy want you to make him something for his Valentine Day dinner with Penny?" Ginny asked, as she started her brother's letter, having basically finished her breakfast.

"I believe so," Mrs. Weasley said. "Poor Penny, starting out with twins. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd started out with Fred and George instead of Bill. Not that things were easy with Bill. Having children isn't easy, Ginny, but they are a joy to have, most of the time." The last part was muttered to the point that Hedwig was sure that Ginny couldn't hear it. "Now, what news did your brother have to share."

"He's worried about keeping up his class standing," Ginny suddenly giggled as she read the next line. "Apparently he thinks that being ranked fourth is some kind of a fluke, and now that he's done it, he'll have to transfer to Ravenclaw, even though he rooms with numbers one and two. Fred and George are apparently engaged in some sort of a prank war that Ron keeps ending up in the middle of. Monday evening he spent unable to speak in anything other than lines from Shakespeare. He keeps walking in on Penny and Percy, too."

"Oh that poor boy," Mrs. Weasley said. "And how are his roommates treating him?"

"Well, Seamus apparently has decided that Hogwarts winters are too cold for his habits," Ginny said. "I'm not sure what that's about. Dean is teaching everyone some sort of muggle game called football. Ron thinks being a goalie in it will help him with becoming a Keeper in Quidditch someday."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "I've never quite understood the boys obsession with Quidditch."

Hedwig noticed that Ginny was rolling her eyes at that. Hedwig liked to watch Quidditch, herself. There were times that she wished she had the necessary equipment to pass the quaffle. She was going to catch a snitch someday, and surprise her Harry.

"Ron says Neville thinks that our problem with the squash and carrots is that we need to till deeper before planting, especially with the carrots," Ginny continued. "There is a pool for when Harry and Hermione finally kiss on the lips. The girls have apparently arranged for a special Valentine's Day dinner for the first year Gryffindors, and Ron's afraid that he's going to be the odd boy out. They're going to draw lots for who gets to sit with Lavender, Parvati, and Sally-Ann."

"At their age, I'm surprised that they're even doing anything for Valentine's Day," Mrs. Weasley commented, as Ginny folded up the letter. "Now, I want you to think about what you're going to respond to those letters while you do your chores. There is no need for slap dash replies to your brother. I want them to be readable and coherent."

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said, in a tone that Hedwig classified as long suffering. "I'll get right onto my chores." Ginny gave one last piece of bacon each to Hedwig and Metis, before siding out of her chair and heading upstairs.

"Now, where did I put the Howler paper?" Mrs. Weasley mused as Errol finally woke up. "Better I let you wake up a bit, Errol. I think I need to build up some proper steam on this anyway."

Hedwig turned her head to look at Metis. It was better to let Errol have the howler. Hedwig was there for Ginny's return letter anyway, so she didn't have to worry that she'd get stuck with the loud red letter. Metis silently indicated that she wasn't worried about getting stuck with it either. Together they watched as Mrs. Weasley built up that steam and began to write one of her famous howlers. It looked like Fred and George were going to be regretting their latest pranks even before Saturday's conference.

* * *

Hermione would have preferred not to have check ups every Saturday. Madam Pomfrey had said that she didn't need them that frequently, yet, but Harry had been scared by January's confinement to the Hospital Wing. Hermione had to admit that he had a right to be scared. She had been scared. Before Madam Pomfrey had let her loose after her case of hyperemesis gravidarum, she had told Hermione about how bad it could have gotten in order to scare her into following every order.

Hermione followed Madam Pomfrey's orders to the letter. She also followed Harry's order to have a weekly visit with Madam Pomfrey. That one, she really didn't think was necessary, but she felt compelled to do it anyway.

It was the first order that Harry had truly given her.

Hermione had read up on her bond, and bonds like it. She knew the formula for how the orders would effect her:

(3x+y-w)/t

The formula seemed so dry, until you realized you were living under it. Three times the intimacy of the order given plus determination to follow minus her will power against it, all divided by the time since the order given. Most of the time, Harry didn't impart the necessary determination to anything he said to her to overwhelm her will power against it. Harry really wasn't a boy who wanted to control anyone, not with the way he'd grown up.

Hermione knew Harry very well. She hadn't known him very well that day when she'd accepted his bond. She'd been afraid then, afraid of having a baby, afraid of what her parents would say, afraid of being expelled ... afraid that no one would ever love her. Hermione wasn't afraid anymore.

She was, however, upset at the fact that his order was preventing her from sleeping in on Saturday. That was one habit that Hermione had picked up from the boys since she moved to their dorm. She'd been surprised when the boys had actually told her to go back to bed. It might have been the first time Harry had actually told her something that she obeyed. Hermione was honest enough with herself that her early rising on Saturday was the remnant of a love of an early morning show on the telly. Of course, she wasn't going to tell anyone that, and especially what show it was.

So, until after her illness in January, she'd enjoyed not having to get up at six antemeridian every Saturday morning. Of course she still woke up rather early, but when she did, Hermione would pull out her latest novel, not a school book, school books were strictly forbidden before noon, prop up a couple pillows against the corner of the walls above bed, and read.

Sometime around the beginning of December, Ron had found a way to get blueberry scones and pumpkin juice delivered to the dorm room on Saturdays and Sundays. He'd told her that it was only because of her pregnancy that he'd been able to convince the elves. Hermione had made a note to follow up on the elves, but hadn't made it a priority, as she was afraid that it would end her access to the scones. The scones, the first of which always made it into her hand via a plate that Harry would levitate on to the shelf above the head of her bed, were simply perfect. She's never tasted any better.

And now, thanks to Harry's order, she had to get out of her nightgown at eight forty in order to get to the Hospital Wing for her nine o'clock weekly check up. It wasn't fair. Hermione really wanted to finish _Nancy Drew and Clue in the Crumbling Wall_. She only had thirty more pages! Harry was right though. Her baby was more important than the book. So Hermione was now sitting on a bed in the Hospital Wing, in only the opening in the back hospital gown, awaiting her turn along with the three other pregnant girls at Hogwarts.

Victoria was to her right. The Slytherin third-year was almost eight months along now. Hermione was not looking forward to waddling around like Victoria was. She made sure to listen closely when Madam Pomfrey told Victoria what she couldn't do. It gave her a preview of what she could expect. Victoria needed to gain more weight, a problem that Hermione also had.

To Hermione's left was Penelope Weasley. She'd married Percy over break, and was about a month behind Hermione's fifteen weeks, but didn't look like it, as she was having twins. Hermione liked the Ravenclaw prefect. Since she was sleeping in Gryffindor Tower with Percy now, Penny was always available to help, or just talk.

Finally there was the newest to join the weekly check ups. Yukihime Chang was a seventh year Hufflepuff, who had been married right before beginning her seventh year. It was an arranged marriage, his third. A step-daughter was in Ravenclaw.

"Please tell me, Victoria, that the ankles don't get worse," Penny said, as she looked across Hermione.

"I can't say that, Missus Weasley," Victoria replied, drawing out the prefect's name. "There are only two know cures for our poor abused ankles, a good soak and rubbing, or those ankle bracelets like Hermione sports. I don't think there are any more of those available either."

"Sorry, Penelope, but I can't lend you mine," Hermione said, regretfully, as the doors to the Hospital Wing swung wide open.

A swollen mass of red hair floated through the door, at the direction of Professor McGonagall. It was too big to be a student. "Poppy! Molly's been hit with sneezing potion and swelling solution!"

Immediately the Matron turned to take care of what was obviously a parent visiting the school. The spells were cast quickly and silently, and potions were summoned swiftly, but without spilling a drop, indeed, without even causing the potion to tilt in the flask.

Hermione watched in amazement as the swelling went down, revealing the homely face of the management of the Weasley Household. At least she assumed it was Mrs. Weasley. That seemed to be confirmed minutes later when Fred and George Weasley entered, screaming, with what appeared to be mucus formed bats exiting from their noses. A very satisfied young auburn haired girl followed them, with an expression of grim determination. A spark shot out from the wand the girl carried, hitting one of the twins in their gluteus maximus, and the girl smirked as George Weasley jumped.

"Misters Weasley, how nice of you to join us," Professor McGonagall said, as the girl slipped her mother's wand on to the stand next to the bed her mother was in. "Against the wall, boys. Thank you Miss Weasley. Bat Boogie Hex? Are you sure you're not eleven?"

"Not until August, Professor," the girl who Hermione thought had to be Ginny Weasley said.

"I shall expect a high standard from you next fall, then," McGonagall said. "Madam Pomfrey, prognosis, please?"

"I can fix it, but Molly is going to be here overnight," Pomfrey said as she continued to cast spells on the unmoving mother. "It's not the first time this combination has knocked her out. The quick treatment helps.

"Daddy's not supposed to be home tonight until ten," Ginny said in a worried voice.

McGonagall bent down to look in Ginny's eyes, placing her hand on her left shoulder. "I shall see about you staying overnight. There is an extra bed still in the First Year's dorm." Then she stood up and looked at the twins. Hermione watched as the calm, collected, and concerned head of house turned into the stern taskmaster of transfiguration in just a few seconds. "Fred and George Weasley, I'm afraid that you will not be going to Hogsmeade this afternoon. Instead I think it's time that you are reminded of the hazards of pranking.

"I shall be talking to Professor Snape about a proper demonstration of the effects. Unfortunately, he has business in London today. Therefore we shall start your punishment with a little manual labor. There was a small accident in the Library, requiring Flitch to have to replace a whole bookcase in the Potions section. You will report to him immediately, and assist him with any task in that repair and replacement, as well as assist Madam Pince with re-shelving. You are third year students, I expect better of you. Dismissed."

Hermione watched as the twins sulked out of the Hospital Wing. She filed away how the Professor had dealt with both Ginny and the twins. It seemed to be a good way. With her hand resting on her belly, Hermione began to think about how it would be like to raise children. She really didn't want to have just one, though given that she was having one during her first year at Hogwarts, she hoped that there would be a significant gap between this first one and the next.

She'd spent hours researching about what was happening to her, and what she could expect from her baby. Her mother had warned her that sometimes books didn't tell you everything, and sometimes they were wrong, but Hermione didn't believe her, really. Okay, she hoped that the description of labor was wrong.

Hermione knew she was having a boy. Harry didn't want to know, so she hadn't told him. The girls knew, and so did her mother. She allowed herself to imagine a little Harry toddling around her home, with even messier hair and Harry's green eyes. She couldn't imagine Harry fathering a child without those green eyes. As she let her thoughts drift while waiting for Madam Pomfrey to get to her, she relaxed into sleep.

* * *

Sally-Anne Perks had been the one that had came up with the idea of having a Valentine's Day Dinner among the first years of Gryffindor. So she was quite proud of how the set up had ended up. Of course, she had been a bit worried about the fact that there were only nine Gryffindors, five boys, four girls, which made the couples uneven. Then Ginny Weasley ended up having to stay overnight when her mother got hurt, and that problem was solved.

Sally-Anne had drawn Dean as her dinner partner, and she had to admit that he did clean up rather well. Not that the boys had really wanted to take the girls to dinner for Valentine's Day. Harry had caught on to the idea, though. Sally-Anne had pitched it as something special that Hermione would always remember.

The red dress that Sally-Anne wore was one that she'd sent for the week before. It had required a little alteration, as she'd gained a little in the right places since she'd last worn it. She was sure that Dean wouldn't notice. As she reached the Common Room, she discovered the boys waiting. They were all dressed up, suit coats and bow-ties. Where they'd found those, Sally-Anne had no idea.

As she stepped to the foot of the stairs, Dean stepped forward and bowed. "My Lady Sally-Anne, may I escort you to dinner, tonight?"

"You may, good sir," Sally-Anne replied impishly, noticing that Percy was standing off to the side with a big smile on his face.

Dean offered his arm, saying, "Shall we?"

* * *

Dean had taken the lead in setting up the study hall for the dinner. He knew the image that he wanted to provide. As he lead Sally-Anne into the room, he though he'd succeeded. There were five tables evenly placed through the room, their candle-lit walnut tops gleaming. White plates with braided gold edging centered on each seat. The real silverware sat on scarlet cloth napkins.

He pulled back the chair for Sally-Anne to sit in, just like Percy had taught them all. They were doing this for the girls, most especially for Hermione, of course. Harry insisted that she was someone special. There was no way Dean would be anywhere as near as good in class without Hermione.

Of course, doing it for just Harry and Hermione would have made it too obvious, at least according to Sally-Anne, when she'd approached him, Dean, and Neville. So they all were, with Neville saved at the last minute from eating alone.

Dean sat down after taking in the room's set up one last time. As he did, his eyes crossed the one candlestick and it's flickering flame that lit the table he shared with Sally-Anne. The reflection of the flame was catching the gilded frames of her glasses, and through them he could see the flames reflected in her umber eyes. His hand itched to pick up a pencil and pull out his pad to draw the lines of her nose and chin as the soft candlelight highlighted them.

* * *

Parvati sat down in the chair that Seamus had pulled out for her. She'd never expected anything like this, and there was no way that a dress was going to arrive in time. So she'd had some fun with some coloring charms and a dress that had been a bit small on her. It had been pink, with a slightly darker tangerine pattern, but now it was a two piece in red. She'd added a gold sash borrowed from Katie Bell, tied high enough to cover her belly button yet still leave a bit of her belly bare, and matched the golden teardrops that adorned it's skirt on the bottom of the shortened top. It was passable, in her opinion.

Seamus seemed to like it. He'd complimented her on it. She smelled the influence of the Prefect Weasleys. There was no other way that the boys could have gotten this much right. The gentle circulation of the room brought news of her dinner's arrival. She looked down to discover her favorite chicken and dumplings. Across the room she could tell that Sally-Anne had her favorite steak. Parvati knew that Seamus liked steak too, and was surprised when she glanced at his plate to discover that he had the same dinner as she had.

Parvati smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be the disaster that her twin sister had predicted. As least as long as he chose to change the water into wine instead of rum, she thought as his wand touched the wine glasses

* * *

"In vino vertus," Seamus intoned. The water changed from clear to the deep burgundy wine he'd intended. He knew it wasn't the proper wine for the meal. It was for what Sally-Anne was having, but if he couldn't have steak because of Parvati's beliefs, he was at least going to have the wine like what his Uncle Patrick served at his rectory.

"Thank you, Seamus," Parvati said, raising the glass. She took a sip before Seamus could taste his own. "I think you got that spell down."

Seamus could feel his blush in the warmth of his cheeks and ears. Parvati was not one to praise him. He mumbled a reply, "It's nice that the practice has paid off. Now I just have to get it down to be non-verbal. But that will be a real miracle."

* * *

Neville had been worried that he'd get stuck with Parvati's sister for the Valentine's Day dinner. He didn't know Padma well, at all. Even having only met Ginny Weasley that morning, he knew her better. Ron was in the habit of reading his sister's letters out loud, and he'd been drafted into the Letters to Harry Potter Project. Ron had to finish his Transfiguration Essay that afternoon, so Neville had somehow ended up walking around Hogwarts with the auburn haired chatter box. Ron was going to regret that.

He'd missed the practice that Percy had scheduled for how to make it feel special for the girls. It had left Neville nervous as he waited for Ginny in the Common Room. It was a feeling that hadn't left him until he'd taken his seat across from her and their food had appeared. Something about her expression of wonder at the appearance, she'd told him that she'd never gone out to eat before, set him at ease. It gave him the courage to reignite the conversation they'd started before she'd been dragged up to get ready by the other girls.

"So, Ginny, you were telling me about how you fly at the Burrow?" Neville asked. The animated expression on her face as she described the performance of her brothers' brooms as she flew around her family's estate was reflected in Neville's smile.

* * *

Ginny Weasley could not believe her luck. She had spent the day and would spend the night at Hogwarts. She was having a real date for dinner, and she was only ten. She'd had fun going around Hogwarts six and a half months early with Neville. She'd thought she'd end up eating with her brothers in the Great Hall, which would have been good, but this was great.

She'd been asked what she wanted to have for dinner, and Neville had asked her again, when she'd answered with normal Burrow fare. Ginny got a dinner that she'd never, ever got at home. On her gilded edged plate was a real T-bone steak. She had broccoli spears in cheddar cheese sauce and steamed rice like what Luna's Mum had cooked.

And best of all, she had someone who would listen to her chatter, her opinion, and talk to her as a equal. It was a heady feeling for the young girl. True, it wasn't a date with the Boy-Who-Lived, like she had dreamed up. She knew that was a dream that wasn't going to happen now. The Boy-Who-Lived was a mirage in the desert, like her oldest brother Bill had told her about. It didn't exist, at least not as everyone thought it did. Her letters to Harry had helped with that, and seeing him with Hermione had been the last nail in the coffin for the image she'd made from her bedtime stories.

Neville laughed at her story of how she'd managed to loose her socks in the trees on one midnight broom ride. She smiled back at him. Then she listened as he told her of a midnight expedition of his own on the Longbottom estate. This was much better than the old books she'd had for years.

* * *

Ron Weasley had been worried about his sister and Neville. Not that they'd get into trouble, he figured that if they got in trouble it was most likely going to be because of Ginny, and Ginny had long ago perfected the art of talking her way out of punishment. No, he had been worried that she'd be out of place, a tag along.

It had been his own worry when he'd boarded the Hogwarts Express to begin his first year. Bill had been Head Boy. Charlie had been the Quidditch star. Percy was ... well Percy. Fred and George were the jokesters. Ron wanted to stand out, to be someone, and as the last boy in a family of seven children, he had long felt that he never would. That had changed when he had met Harry, and even more so when Hermione had come up with her studying idea. He was fourth in class, had good friends who weren't friends because of his brothers, or what he knew, but because they liked him for who he was.

When he heard Neville laugh, and saw Ginny's smile, he wasn't worried anymore about his sister. Taking one last look at their table, and noticing his sister's dress, which wasn't one of her own but was familiar, he met his tablemate's gaze. "Thank you for lending the dress to Ginny, and helping her get ready," Ron said. "I think you've made sure this is a night to remember for her."

* * *

Lavender Brown knew that Ron had been worried all day. First about his mother who was spending the night in the Hospital Wing following a prank potion interaction, and then about his little sister. She'd seen his relief when she'd taken Ginny up to the First Year Girl's dorm to get ready. Ginny hadn't been expecting that, and Lavender had fun with the young girl. All the girls had had fun getting ready. She'd been surprised when Hermione had been the first to pull out the make up kit, but within minutes all of them were putting it on, making sure that they were all at their bests. For all five of them, this would be their first date ... not that they were telling the boys that it was.

"I think you have something to do with it too," Lavender said. Ron was so cute when he blushed.

"I just set up the tables like Dean asked, and polished them good," Ron said, his ears red. "Seamus arranged for the suits with his Uncle Fearghus. Neville convinced McGonagall to let us use the room. Harry got Percy to enlarge some of Dean's pictures to cover the walls, and put them up. Dean fixed up the candles and found the music."

Lavender hadn't even noticed the soft music, but now that she did, it didn't take her long to identify it. "Handel's Water Music?"

"Yeah," Ron replied. "It's supposed to be some sort of original recording. Madam Pince wouldn't let him have it at first until he told her his plans. Dean told us about the legend behind the piece..."

Lavender smiled as Ron talked animatedly about the music. She'd thought she was going to suffer through a meal hearing about the Cannons when she'd drawn Ron for her dinner partner. She'd thought that he was going to stare at his sister and her date all meal once they'd sat down. It was nice to find out that she was wrong.

* * *

The only thing that Hermione had found wrong with the Valentine's Day Dinner was that her plate seemed to empty way too quickly. Of course, this was a condition that the girl was getting used to special dinner or not. She picked up a folk load of the cherry pie a la mode, taking time to relish the taste, this time. It wasn't often that she got cherry pie, never before at Hogwarts, and this one was a good one. She could see from her seat that everyone had a piece. It had to be something special treat for the day. "This is good."

"Perhaps I'll teach you how to bake one this summer," Harry responded. He had a big smile on his face, as if he thought the compliment applied to him personally.

With a sudden realization, Hermione asked, "Where were you this morning?" He'd been gone when she'd gotten back from her appointment with Pomfrey.

"The Hogwarts Kitchens, where else?" Harry said. "The head elf, Homken, had some objection to me using the equipment, at first, but I think I brought him around. I wanted to have some part of the dinner be something I made, because I wanted to, for once." Hermione could hear the determination in Harry's voice, and the pride in what he had done. It was something she wanted to hear more of.

Hermione took another bite of the cherry pie. She also wanted more of Harry's cherry pie.

* * *

Harry had gotten exactly two bites out of his piece of cherry pie before Hermione had stolen it. He really had no problem with that, though the thought crossed his mind that just once he'd like to be able to have a whole piece of his own pie. Instead he looked across the table at his Hermione. He'd never quite seen her this way. He was sure she had makeup on. Hermione never wore makeup. It was rather artfully done, though. He preferred her without it. Her hair had been tamed. Harry's hair was never tamed, and several times the other girls said that they feared that Hermione's baby's hair would be simply untamable.

All too soon the grandfather clock that Professor McGonagall had placed in the room stuck eight, reminding them to return to the common room. Harry helped Hermione stand. He had to do that every once in a while now, as her center of balance had started to shift, now that she was starting to show. He'd been warned never to mention the word fat in her presence. He lead her back to the Common Room on his arm, the other pairs trailing behind them.

As Harry entered the Common Room, he discovered that Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster were seated by the fire, sipping tea. He came to a stop at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dorm, and said to Hermione, "Here is where we part for the moment. I hope you enjoyed our dinner."

"I did," Hermione replied, as she turned to face him. There was a thoughtfull expression on her face, as she continued. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Harry found himself unable to reply, as Hermione enveloped him in a hug. He could only return the hug, pulling her body so her baby bump pushed against his belly. Her eyes caught his gaze, the big brown eyes seeming to hypnotize him. As she pulled away, Harry missed the feeling, but he could only watch as she ascended the stairs.

For the next twenty minutes, Harry sat in the Common Room, thinking about the dinner, replaying it, and the hug over and over in his mind. Once the all clear was given, he ascended the stairs with the other boys, to find Hermione already asleep in her wardrobe room's bed.

He stood in the doorway, looking at her sleeping, unable to pull himself away. Harry had no idea how long he stood there, but all the other boys were done and in bed by the time he pulled himself away. He was the last to climb in bed, sending the room into darkness.

* * *

_**Author's Note**: Don't expect any more of this any time soon. This story requires a lot of work to produce in comparison to other works of mine, and has a five scene a chapter minimum. As per usual, reviews that are just of pleas for more are counterproductive. Significant length reviews are likely to get replies. Reviews or PMs with questions are even more likely to get replies._


	7. Start of March

_**Author's Note**__: I'd like to thank the following for their assistance in writing this chapter: Pierre, Ciarán Boyle, runecutter, Fjord Defect, gemm ethan whitake, Dennis Sicz, Patrick Cross, kensfire, charlesnewton21, Alex, and Filodea._

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Hermione Granger could take a little teasing. That being said, if another one of her classmates mentioned fire, she was going to set them on fire. It wasn't her fault that at the last game her attempt at distracting Snape from cursing Harry's broom had ended up setting four professor's robes on fire, instead of just Snape's. It had been one of the first effects on her magic that she now attributed to her pregnancy. Of course, only the boys knew that she'd been responsible, and they were sworn to secrecy.

"You know, Ron, you might want to reconsider," Hermione said flatly as she nibbled on one of the blueberry scones that served as the weekend breakfast for her and the boys. "I might just decide to turn that fiery hair of yours into real fire."

Ron visibly gulped. "Sorry, Hermione," he replied. Like all the other boys, he was lying on his bed, still in his ratty pajamas.

Well, not all the boys. Seamus had left earlier for Sunday Mass, dressed in the same suit coat and pants, though with a regular tie, as he'd worn for the Valentine's Day dinner over two weeks ago. He'd finally gotten to the point, after months of Hermione being in her wardrobe, open to the room, to put on a pair of boxers to sleep in. Hermione had moved out to sit on Harry's bed, having put aside her weekend fiction read in favor of one of the pregnancy books that her mother had sent her. She smiled her acceptance of Ron's apology.

"I don't see why you're so accepting of Snape refereeing today, Harry," Ron said. "I mean he tried to kill you last time."

"I don't think it was Snape," Harry replied, giving Hermione an excuse to look at him. He'd finally put on a little weight, after getting lectured by Madam Pomfrey. His ribs no longer showed when he had his shirt off. Right now he wore a pair of scarlet and gold pajamas that Professor McGonagall had gotten for him when she'd taken him to London for Christmas. The top was unbuttoned. "I mean, he was really nice at Christmas, and he could have got me several times then."

"You'll forgive me if I still keep my wand on him today," Hermione said, putting down her book.

"Of course I will, I don't want you to fire me," Harry replied with a big smile and a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh you are so dead, Harry," Neville said from his bed as, Hermione stood. Her gaze kept Harry still.

"It was nice knowing you, Harry," Dean added, as Hermione climbed back on to the bed, settling across his upper legs.

"Can I have your invisibility cloak when you croak?" Ron asked. Harry wasn't going anywhere with Hermione's pinning his legs under his covers.

Hermione limbered up her fingers and attacked. Harry wasn't moving, his eyes had been totally captured by Hermione's gaze. He wasn't escaping from Hermione's traditional response. Laughter rang out in the dorm as Hermione's fingers found the right spots to execute her tickle attack. She only had so long though, before the remaining three boys would decide that Harry had served his time under her attack, and she knew it.

The sound of Harry's laughter echoed throughout the tower, driving him to near helplessness. Hermione had chosen her position well, attacking him in such a way to neutralize his response, or at least she thought she had. Somehow Harry managed to squirm loose during his laughter.

The next thing Hermione knew, Harry had returned the favor, her own laughter filling the room and threatening to cause her to loose bladder control. She fell back onto the bed, looking at the Harry's smile and hearing his laughter mingling with hers. She didn't want it to end, but her shrinking bladder capacity forced her to speak up between giggles. "Stop, Harry, I'm going to have to pee."

Harry stopped and moved back, still with a smile on his face. His face was flush, and top askew. The bottoms of his pyjamas had apparently been left behind under the covers, revealing his plain gray boxers. It was moments like this, where there seemed to not be a care in the world between them that Hermione felt most at ease.

It was not to last, as Oliver Wood poked his head into the dorm room. "Potter, time to head down to the pitch for our pre-game meeting."

* * *

There was still a chill to the air as Harry searched the pitch for the snitch. Below him the two teams' chasers worked their way back and forth across the pitch. The sound of the bats of the Weasley twins as they controlled the bludgers punctuated cheers of the crowd.

The match was against Hufflepuff, and Harry had been told that every Gryffindor was expecting Snape to be an unfair ref. In fact, Ron had actually opined that Harry might want to make sure he had a will, especially given Hermione.

Harry had greater worries than the professor with even greasier hair than usual, it was actually reflective, ruling unfairly against Gryffindor. He worried about having to go home to his aunt and uncle. He worried about Hermione having his baby. He worried that he might not be a good father. Snape was nothing, so he put his worry aside and played.

He soared up about the stands, his eyes scanning the field. His honorable opponent from Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, did likewise. He knew it would be a clean game, or at least as clean as possible. Oliver had been ambushed by Hermione, insisting that they keep the game as clean as possible. No fouls and Snape wouldn't be able to do anything ... or at least much. Snape had just called a foul for targeting the ref with a bludger on George. The shot went wide, way wide, a commentary from the usually accurate Hufflepuff chaser as to the fairness of the call.

Harry lost himself in the game, feeling the air whip by, as he rose to get a slightly better angle on a suspected sighing of the snitch. It was enough to confirm that the gold glint he was seeing wasn't a reflection off Snape's greasy hair. He dove.

There was nothing like a steep dive, especially a steep dive through traffic. Harry knew his broom, knew it's speed, knew every bit and cut he could make. He curved around Fred, he caused a Hufflepuff chaser to alter course, allowing Katie to intercept the quaffle. His hair slid off his forehead, revealing his scar, as the wind tousled his hair and robes.

As Harry approached, Snape rolled out of the way, his eyes wide. It was just in time, as Harry stretched out his arm. The snitch slapped his palm as his hand closed around it. Snape's whistle blew. "Potter has the snitch." Harry had never heard the announcement of the end of a game in such a dead panned voice.

Harry did not head down to where the crowd was gathering, with the chasers, Wood, and the twins. Instead he headed for the part of the stands where Hermione sat. Landing beside her, he said, "Would you like a ride around the Castle before heading back to the Tower?"

Hermione looked down at Harry's broom. Harry could almost see the memory of his flying in the game passing before her eyes. Then she looked up, meeting his. "No sudden moves, no dives, just smooth flying," she bargined.

"I can do that," Harry said with a big smile, mounting his broom again. Hermione climbed behind him, and enveloped him in a hug from behind. He kicked off, and began a slow ride, the long way to the castle, starting with a tour along the edge of the Forbidden Forrest.

* * *

Hedwig knew that it was going to be a while before she was sent back to Hogwarts from the Granger's House. Hermione's mother had prepared a plate of bacon, neatly cut in owl bite sizes. So she settled down on her perch in the kitchen, a chair which Mrs. Granger had remarked was Hermione's. Mr. Granger was seated at the head of the table, the Times unfolded in front of him.

"Montague, since we don't have any patients this morning, it might be a good time to talk," Mrs. Granger said. Hedwig knew that tone. She'd heard it before.

"So, are you going to finally admit that I put you back in the puddling club, Wendy?" Mr. Granger said.

"I'm only two days late, Monty," Mrs. Granger replied.

"So the baby names books were wishful thinking, again?" Mr. Granger said, turning the page, with a big smile. "Not that I'm objecting to such thinking, and actions, of course. We've always said we'd like another child, and we're not getting any younger."

Hedwig remembered carrying those books as well as quite a bit of others to Hogwarts. She'd also been at the end of Harry's bed when Hermione had declared them useless. Hedwig knew both Harry's and Hermione's choices, both male and female. She knew that they were the same, and was greatly amused at the fact that neither had told the other yet, but the names were the same.

"The books were not wishful thinking, Monty," Mrs. Granger said, before taking a deep breath. "The books were for Hermione."

"The books were for Hermione?" Mr. Granger's tone was flat, showing the anger that Hedwig knew was starting to build. "That little toe-rag, Harry Potter, despoiled my daughter."

"Genetically, yes," Mrs. Granger replied. "Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey assure me, that Hermione and Harry are, as Mcgonagall put it, blushing virgins still."

"Let me guess, another side effect of an accidental ritual," Mr. Granger said. "That excuse is growing thin. I want her pulled out." His hand impacted the table. "First it was the troll, then the binding, and let's not forget Hermione spending nearly all of January in the hospital wing, for what did they call it? hyperemesis gravidarum?"

"Yes, hyperemesis gravidarum, or to translate from the Latin, excessive vomiting due to pregnancy," Mrs. Granger replied.

In the quiet following the statement, Hedwig heard the sound of a mouse in the wall. She turned her head to locate it. Behind the refrigerator, she figured. Her eyes zoomed in on the space between the counter top and the refrigerator. If the mouse came out, it would come out there. The sound of the mouse's movement went the wrong way, and Hedwig gave up on lunch.

"How long have you known?" Mr. Granger asked, Hedwig's attention returning to the man. There was an edge to the man's tone, now.

"Since January eighth," Mrs. Granger replied, apparently unconcerned. "Hermione found out at the same time as she found out about her binding to Harry, but wanted to tell us in person about being pregnant. Unfortunately she, and I quote here, 'didn't live up to the Gryffindor Virtues.' Apparently we treated her like too much of a grown up, too soon."

Hedwig looked down at the plate of bacon. Somehow she'd eaten half of it without noticing.

"Sounds to me like she doth protest too much," Mr. Granger huffed. "I don't like it. And don't tell me that this Harry Potter is an innocent victim too. He's the boy that made my daughter pregnant." His hand came down on the table again.

"Blushing virgins, Monty, they're both blushing virgins," Mrs. Granger replied.

"I said don't tell me," Mr. Granger mumbled.

"Anyway, Hermione has a few questions for you in her last letter," Mrs. Granger said. "I think it's high time you wrote to her, for the first time since October. Hedwig will be happy to deliver it, I'm sure."

There was a bit of silence, as Hedwig nodded, and directed her gaze at Mr. Granger. She knew that Hermione wanted a letter from her father.

"I'll write her ... and Harry ... but allow me to pretend for just a little while longer that she's still Daddy's little girl."

Looking at Mr. Granger's expression, Hedwig wondered if muggles could write howlers.

* * *

The private alcoves were all filled in the Common Room when Harry and Hermione returned from their flight and wanted to talk to their fellow Gryffindor first years. With the still going on celebration for the Quidditch win, it was also a bit loud. So they gathered up in the boy's dorm.

As Ron sat on his bed, nibbling on some crisps that he'd snared before Harry and Hermione had gathered the First-Year Gryffindors, he mused that he wasn't quite as close to Harry as he once had been. Before November, and Hermione moving into the dorm, it would have been him, if anyone that would have been along when Harry encountered Snape warning Quirrel.

He was pretty sure that his moment of introspection, not to mention the fact that he hadn't blown up when Fred, or was it George, calling him little ronnie-kins, was due to the single glass of wine that Seamus had provided him in celebration of the Quidditch win. A smile crossed his face, as he recalled that he'd found the spell for Seamus.

As his bed was the closest to Harry's bed, that meant that he wasn't alone on his bed. Seamus and Parvati were both seated, Parvati in the middle, on his bed, where as Lavender and Sally-Anne were both seated on Neville's bed. Dean was sitting on Neville's trunk. Harry and Hermione were both laying back on Harry's bed. It looked like they were waiting on someone to respond to. Ron figured that as both of their oldest friend, it was his duty. "Well, You-Know-Who has got the stone."

"What do you mean, has got the stone?" Neville replied. "What stone?"

"The one Dumbledore borrowed from his good friend Nicholas Flamel," Hermione replied.

"There is no way that Professor Quirrel can stand up to Snape," Ron opined. Not many people stood up to Snape. Of all his brothers, only Percy had somehow managed to even get on the good side of Snape.

"Professor Snape," Hermione automatically corrected.

"Well, he'd have to get past that three headed dog, right?" Lavender said, playing with her blond curls. Ron had noticed that she tended to do that a lot. If she didn't have anything in either hand, one or the other would end up playing with he curls. "What's it called?"

"A cerberus, which according to Greek mythology guarded the gates of the underworld," Sally-Anne said. Ron was surprised that Sally-Anne was the one to answer. Normally it would be Hermione. "What? Someone has to answer before the ten count rule. I did a report on Hades last year."

Harry had gotten tired of Hermione answering way to many questions, way too quickly, in Charms before anyone else had, the week before. He'd told Hermione that she wasn't allowed to raise her hand in class again until she counted to ten, slowly. Ron had been glad of it, and with the new confidence conveyed upon him by his increased class rank, he'd managed to be the beneficiary of it a few times.

"Any way, a cerberus is not exactly the best protection," Sally-Anne continued. "They are a prime example of the wisdom that music soothes the savage beast. A little music, perhaps Seamus singing that soul my oh piece, and they'll go right to sleep."

"It's O Sole Mio, and I really don't have the voice for that one yet," Seamus said, practically singing the title. "It requires a tenor voice, and I should only be so lucky to have my voice break that way. Maybe Ava Maria, though I think you might actually sign that one better, Parvati."

"I did it once, on a dare," Parvati protested. "And somehow it got back to my sister. You know how annoying it is for your sister to tease you? Of course not. No sisters. You are not so unlucky."

"You're good, and have a wonderful voice!" Seamus gushed. It was becoming a regular theme every time it was brought up. "You've got to sing! There are some great pieces from Byrd's Mass for Three Voices ..."

"From his Mass, anything but the Mass music," Parvati replied. Her gaze looking heavenward, Ron could see the exasperation on her face.

"Okay," Seamus said. "How about Edelweiss? If not that, then perhaps Rule Britannia."

"Why don't you throw in the Star Spangled Banner for good measure," Parvati shot back.

"No one can sing the Star Spangled Banner," Dean interrupted. "We get it you don't want to sing."

Parvati looked down at her bare feet. "Well, actually, I've always wanted to sing Rule Britannia, especially with a big chorus and orchestra behind me, at Royal Albert Hall," she blushed. "It's one of those few things that Padma says I'm a fool for even thinking I could. I intend to prove her wrong."

The expression on Parvati's face was one of determination, and Ron knew that you'd have to be a fool to bet against Parvati ever meeting that goal. Then to Ron's surprise, she broke into the song. It was in a clear voice, melodic, and commanding.

"When Britain first, at heaven's command,  
arose from out the azure main,  
arose, arose, arose from out the azure main,  
this was the charter, the charter of the land.  
And guardian angels sang this strain ..."

Her voice trailed off. There was a few moments of silence, and then from the common room below, the chorus began.

"Rule Britannia!  
Britannia rule the waves  
Britons never, never, shall be slaves

"Come on, Parvati, I think we found your chorus," Harry said. "And we really should rejoin the party."

"Rule Britannia!  
Britannia rule the waves  
Britons never, never, shall be slaves.

* * *

Professor Minerva McGonagall strolled into the staff room. Despite the abysmal refereeing by Severus, she was in a rather good mood. Her lions had won, and she'd seen Harry and Hermione flying on his broom between the towers of Hogwarts. She'd just come from checking on the after game party in her common room, and it had been surprisingly calm. She was somewhat disappointed that her house was singing that British song, but had to admit that Parvati did have a rather good voice.

Now, though, despite her good mood, she had a role she had to play. There was no way she was going to let Severus get away with that kind of officiating. When she was done with him, he'd be wishing that he was the referee who had caused the infamous riot at the Portree/Chudley game in '74. Minerva had been there, and as a Pride partisan, firmly believed that her team had been robbed of the game. On staff, only Poppy knew that she'd been part of the rioters.

The staff room was currently configured for regular work, not a staff meeting. Minerva took her usual seat in a rather comfortable wing-back chair, and picked up the hot tea with just a touch of cream, no whiskey this time. By the time exam rolled around, her tea would be more whiskey than tea. She hoped it might be different this year. Her first years were all doing well. If her projections were right, there were going to be just one Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin in the top ten this month in that year. Ron Weasley's grades had actually shocked his older twin brothers into improving as well. They didn't have the time to get up to Ron and Percy range grades, as they called them, but their improved work had been rather impressive.

The door opened, and the bat of the dungeons entered, his robes billowing behind him. Minerva had to admit that the Slytherin Head had his image down. "Severus Snape," she said sharply. "I expected fair and impartial judgement from you today."

Severus Snape was a Professor, having just received tenure the past summer. He had also been one of Minerva's students. Seven years of schooling, training his reaction to her scolding, had not worn off, especially given her position as Deputy Headmistress. He still cringed at her tone. "Yes, Professor McGonagall," he replied habitably.

"It will not happen again," Minerva said. "I will not have it be said that the worst officiating since '74 occurred at Hogwarts. You are lucky that the two teams decided to implement their own judgement in shooting the penalty shots you called. I don't think you made a single justified call against my Gryffindors, and since every single penalty shot taken by the Hufflepuffs went way wide, I think we can conclusively say that they agreed."

Snape slumped into a wooden chair across from Minerva. She could tell that he knew he was in the wrong. He was not going to try to justify his actions, even though there were other professors in the staff room.

"I don't know what has gotten into you this year," Minerva continued. "I swear, this year you've gone down hill. You've always been a very strict teacher, which given your class is a very good thing. You've been harsh against my Gryffindors, who were your rivals when you were in school, but you had moderated that as time progressed. This year, however, you have backslid and more. It will not continue. Understood."

"Yes ma'am," Snape replied, contrite for the moment under her glare.

"I hope that I shall not have to speak about this again," Minerva said. Then after a moment's silence, she continued. "Now, I've spoken to Albus about your idea to maintain and expand the by skill split of the current first years this September. We've been a little worried about the additional expense, especially if it's expanded to the current second through fourth years, as you've proposed. However, it has shown marked improvement among all the students, and a couple members of the Board have indicated that they are for expanding it, to the point of funding additional positions, including your idea of reviving the paid Student Assistant job you once held, as well as an adjunct instructor.

"They would like to see how it would work with another class, so I will be doing skill based class splits for Transfiguration for the second years next September. If it goes well, I shall expand it further in the Winter Term next year. The governors have agreed that I shall be getting a much needed assistant as well. The governors have asked that you chose the Student Assistant for Potions from the current fifth years."

"I already have a name for you," Snape said, with a surprising smirk gracing his face. "Of all the fifth years I have in Potions this year, there is only one who refuses to be intimidated. Only one of them would I actually trust alone in my personal lab. I do not believe anyone will have an objection to Percy Weasley."

Minerva considered the choice for a moment. He was the top student in his year, but he was also soon to be a father, which would complicate things. Percy and Penny were also the only married couple currently attending Hogwarts, though not the only married students. He was always very prepared for class, even when he was dealing with the results of his dalliance with Penny. He was usually quite helpful with the young years. His efforts to help the current second years the pervious year had been why he'd been made prefect. "I have no objection, at least. You may have to convince Penny Weasley, though."

"Not a problem," Snape declared. "If it were not for her condition, she would be my second choice. I shall talk to her, though. I need to stop by Gryffindor Tower, soon, anyway. I have discovered that Lily's Charms notes for her first year were left at Spinner's End. I think that Mr. Potter may find them useful. I understand from our Gamekeeper, that he has little of his parents."

* * *

_**Author's Note**__: Please feed the muse ... but not any dark chocolate. This site gets new chapters a day after the last beta feedback at the earliest, and there are no chapters holding for posting on this work at this time. I'm currently projecting 4 more chapters in this story.  
_


End file.
